


Pondus Omnium

by alikuu



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Game), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Dubious Concent, Dubious Morality, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Horror, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Pining, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sauron being a Sadistic & Manipulative Bastard, Second Age, Sexual Tension, Silverfisting, The One Ring - Freeform, Unrequited Love, Violence against orcs, and kind of likes it, dark!Celebrimbor, long conversations, talion dreams of sauron, talion dreams of sauron and strongly dislikes it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikuu/pseuds/alikuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Talion sleeps, but the dreams that visit him are rarely his own. In the dead of night he glimpses visions of another age and a set of golden eyes, which he learns to both fear and desire as he finds out more about his undead elven companion than he had ever wished to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To those who haven't played Shadow of Mordor - it's an AU where Celebrimbor has refused the summons of Mandos after his death at the hand of Sauron, and has remained in Mordor as a vengeful wraith. He haunts a Gondorian Ranger named Talion, who loses his family and his life to the Black Hand. Together they embark on a journey of retribution, where Celebrimbor slowly regains the memories of his life as they get closer to their shared goal of killing the Black Hand and weakening Sauron's army.
> 
> Need a visual of our heroes? Here you go: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/8b/b6/21/8bb621e46318c9d5f4746707c3a7c81f.jpg

Talion was dead, but he still walked amongst the world of the living. He was tied to Mordor like the bitter ghost of the Elven Lord, who haunted him and gave him power to extract his revenge. But unlike his compeer, the ranger retained his body and sometimes, however seldom, he wanted for rest. So Talion slumbered, but it wasn’t only sleep that his body recalled. Ever so often he dreamt. And when it came to dreams, they they were not always his own.

It had been a blessing and a nightmare to sleep and dream of his family. Seeing their faces as vividly as real life, believing they were still walking amongst the light until the sickly dawn of a bleak day reminded him that his plight was hopeless. Such images never seized to crush his already tattered heart. His only purpose was to truly die, as the wraith so often reminded him in harsh, raspy whispers of vengeance. Talion’s family were dead and he would never see them again within the circles of the mortal world. But while the dreams of his own making were a bitter pleasure, a needed respite and a reminder of what he had lost, Celebrimbor’s dreams, when they came, were at once wondrous and unwelcome in their strangeness. They filled Talion's mind with images of a distant age and his soul with emotions that were not his own, leaving him confused and heartsick as the lines between him and the other entity blurred and bled.  


When Talion dreamt of the massacre of his own family, shadowy tears ran over the marred cheeks of the wraith. 

“Our common grief unites us,” The elf lord’s powerful voice reverberated in the ranger’s mind.

“Your family…” Talion had seen them, through painfully bright flashes of memory, which Celebrimbor’s rediscoveries had revealed to him, “They suffered much the same fate?”

“I do not remember their end.” Celebrimbor’s answers were ever cryptic. “However the agony your memories stir tells me all I need to know.”

Despite the wraith’s lifeless breath clung to him like a wintry draught and his presence sent the skin on his not-living body prickling with awareness of something that was there but was not, the Ranger had begun to perceive Celebrimbor as something like a friend. A constant in his dreary existence. A part of him. And Talion believed the spirit when he said that with each of his family’s heirlooms, he remembered only as much as was revealed. However the dreams showed a lot of what the wraith did not wish to say. And often a lot more than Talion wished to know.

Talion had suspected- no, he had known as surely as one knows that wind is there, despite not being able to see it - that there had been kinship between the silversmith and Sauron. The memories that came only confirmed the comradeship which had once existed between the greatest evil of his time and the ancient spirit.

“I did not know!” Celebrimbor said to the unspoken question. 

Talion had wanted to ask, had needed to be reassured that Celebrimbor had not recognised Sauron for whom he truly was. The warmth that he had sensed in Celebrimbor’s soul, the way the elf had felt - the glee, the softness of trust - Talion had experienced it all through the skin of a memory - that awful pleasure of having Sauron by his side. 

How disgusting it had felt, once the ranger came back to himself. How shaken he had put down the broken artifacts of a forgotten past. How dirty he had been for knowing what it felt like to be Sauron’s friend. 

“I did not know.” The wraith repeated. “Sauron is the master of lies.”

But that were just the recollections. The dreams that came to him later were different. They told other stories, filled in gaps, completed memories, of which Talion would never had intended to ask.

Like that hazy afternoon in mid summer. How many summers had passed with Annatar at his side?! The elven craftsman’s hand had been strong and elegant as he forged, as he smithed, molten silver burning bright. And to his side Annatar had stood, glowing, golden. Celebrimbor’s heart had preened at his regard. 

The Lord of Eregion turned. Talion knew that he was smiling to Sauron, to the enemy. Yet Celebrimbor did not know. Annatar’s eyes were fey, his smile beautiful and woofish, but the elf did not see what he did not wish to see. His vision was softened by fascination, his eyes tracing the delicate movements of plumb lips. His mind was opened to the the praises that fell from them like ripe fruits, which he then raised up and so sweetly, so softly crunched between his pearly teeth, oozing poison as succulent as nectar down his throat and into his heart.

The elf’s skin was hot, burning from the fire in the furnace next to him. In the fiery light the Maia basked, shrouded in unearthly glow, best at home near the sizzling metal and the forge. How Celebrimbor’s chest swelled, how his fingers prickled. But they were dirty and he would not raise them to touch the glittering white robes that Sauron wore, clasp a strong shoulder or caress pale hair…  
And when Talion awoke he violently jerked away from where Celebrimbor was raising as well. On the ground they had lain, their presence interwoven by inhabiting the same body, but separated now by this wrongness - 

“I did not know.” Was all the wraith ever said to him.

…

Another dream. This time it was fall. Lanterns and fires lit the halls of the city. Ost-in-Edhil was festive, the people were on the streets. It was a night of celebration and the Lord was amidst the crowds, wearing finery beyond measure, his stern face and sleek dark hair catching many eyes, yet his own gaze was searching. Amongst the dancing he spotted him - bright and golden, Annatar, who smiled and laughed and danced with another. 

Hot, rotting jealousy burned within him. Anger so familiar that Talion expected to feel the phantom touch bursting from his arm, waited for the wraith’s power to turn deadly and the festival to turn into a massacre, but nothing of the sort happened. Celebrimbor was alive and whole, and had not yet forged a single ring. His spirit was well grounded in Middle Earth and his body intact. He had not know pain or fear, not like he did now.

And yet, loss was what he felt when he saw Annatar’s attention on another, laughing, his golden eyes squinted and shining with delight. For a moment the Maia turned and saw him. Their eyes locked and Celebrimbor’s breath was caught. A desperate, useless hope of hiding, of not allowing his eyes to give him away, but it was futile. The Maia knew him too well, could read into the hearts of elves as if they were books opened to him and it filled Celebrimbor with apprehension, yearning and daring. How he wished to take the Maia’s hand and drag him away, hide him somewhere where he could not waste his light on another, be only his and give the elf lord all of his wondrous attention, rain his gifts only upon Celebrimbor the way he had promised…

Annatar’s gaze slipped away from him and did not look back. Celebrimbor’s stomach twisted to a tight, sordid knot and bile rose up to his mouth. The valar’s messenger had born a look so mischievous and maliciously satisfied in the flash second before he had torn his gaze away, that it should have sounded the warning horns within the elven lord’s mind. But instead all it did was stroke the furnaces burning deep in Celebrimbor’s guts like oil on a flame. 

“What the hell was that?!” Talion couldn’t keep the betrayal from his voice as he looked for the wraith upon raising from that strange, tasteless dream. That had been Sauron Celebrimbor had ached for... 

The wraith was nowhere to be found. His presence was there, always there, but he did not speak, nor did he materialise where Talion could see him.

“Answer me spirit!” The ranger shouted.

But no explanation came.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talion has another dream of Sauron.

The Yule hall was lit for festivities, but the immense, joyous chamber was static and dim in Celebrimbor's eyes. All its light had been sucked away and concentrated into a single bright spot - the Gift-giver who shone with such fiery, unpredictable flame, burning a spot in the elf’s vision, blinding him to everything else. The crowd parted for the white-robed being as he looked upon the Lord of Eregion in return. A fire burned in the place of the Maia's eyes, a rising wave of molten gold coming forth to consume all in it’s sizzling wrath.

Under Celebrimbor’s cagey scrutiny, the Gift-giver smiled. The gesture spread slowly over his handsome face, slowly revealing pearly teeth, the grin of a wolf before its helpless prey. An instinctive shudder ran over the Elven Lord’s back like icy fingers trailing patterns down his spine. Breathless his gaze followed Annatar’s extended hand beckoning to him. Gone was the time when such a gesture would have delighted him, filled his spirit with weightless elation and his belly with reckless thrill. The commanding being that stood before him was no longer the humbled, wise Maia, who had supplicated himself before the Lord of Ost-in-Edhil. No, he was something else entirely and Celebrimbor had a chilling, nagging suspicion that he would not like the knowledge of the true identity of this Ainur.

Celebrimbor walked down the steps loftily, regal with his back straight like the scion of Feanor that he was and the Lord that he had made himself become. His gait was assured, elegant and unhurried. He took Annatar’s hand and held fast, fingers gripping tighter than he’d ever dared, for once not afraid to crush the delicate long-fingered hand within his work-hardened grip. Callused digits met familiar smooth, pale ones but Annatar was not the same.

With one hard yank Celebrimbor’s body collided so soundly with the Maia’s strong frame that the air flew out of the elf's lungs. An ancient pride burned hotly within Celebrimbor’s veins, it did not allow him to gasp, to squirm or give any indication that he was afraid.

Allowing that treacherous Maia into his city had been a misstep, but Annatar was highly overestimating himself if he believed that the Elves of Eregion would fall under his heel with but a few cheap tricks and flashy smiles. If anything, his knowledge could be exploited. The things they had made were tools of _his_ people. Annatar had nothing but soft-spoken threats and honeyed lies. Allowing this viper into his city had been an error, yes. But Celebrimbor could still fix that, if only he could get a solid grip on his slippery form…

“My Lord.” Annatar whispered hotly in the scant space between them, so close the tip of his nose brushed the elf’s.

He did not have to say further, spoken words were redundant. The clutch of his arms tightening around Celebrimbor’s body said it all. Like the tightening of a death trap, it squeaked and clanked, like poisonous vines hooking their throrns around an old tree it stiffled and suffocated. Chest to chest, hips to hips, Annatar lead the Lord of the Elven City into a dance, falling into step with the swaying rhythm of the music that echoed through the hall. And Celebrimbor stumbled through it's blinding darkness pridefully, assured in his fumbling, stone-faced as he lost hope of ever going back.

Later when Annatar dragged him away, Celebrimbor was drifting in and out of awareness, losing focus, a drunkenness settled over his senses that had little to do with the wine he had consumed. Annatar was there and all around, his presence within and without a prickling sensation a match for free-falling. Celebrimbor’s mind spun in circles, like the twirling couples who had danced alongside them in the hall.

Under the Maia’s heat he annealed like metal, losing his resolve and bending to that searing will until his mouth was opened against Annatar’s own and his fingers were struggling against the confines of their clothes.

“No!” Talion woke up with a scream, the shock intimate and raw like a cool blade slipping between his ribs. At once he squirmed away from the wraith and shuddered, wishing desperately for the unhealthy dawn of Mordor to chase away the phantoms of Celebrimbor's memories. Those visions burned all the brighter on such a starless night and the Ranger feared that he would see them just as clearly in the space behind his eyelids if only he was to close his eyes.

“You knew.” He said at last, when he could trust his voice not to shake. Horror, unlike anything he had ever felt still chilled him to the core, but at least his tone did not quiver. For it had been too real, too familiar. Seeing with Celebrimbor’s eyes, feeling with Celebrimbor’s skin. It felt as if it had happened to him, as if he had been the one held by the Dark Lord- kissed, controlled, yielding…

“You knew.” He repeated flatly. It wasn’t even an accusation, for he had no doubts that he was right. But he wanted to hear it from the wraith and this time Celebrimbor did not hide.

“Only when it was too late.” The elf's spirit said.

“What did he want from you?” Talion asked quietly. His mind returning to Annatar, the memory impossible to ignore like that of a burn wound.

“Revenge. Submission. Fear.” Celebrimbor sighed. “His thirst knew no satisfaction. He wanted to destroy utterly and from within. Toying with me and my city was only the beginning.”

Talion was grateful for the soft fall of padded boots, which announced Lithariel’s approach. By default his guide camped a little away from where he slept for purposes both tactical and personal.

“I heard noise. Is everything alright?” The blonde stopped a few meters away, placing a hand on her hip and tilting her beautiful head the the side.

“Everything is in order.” Talion turned to her, giving Celebrimbor his back.

“Were you two arguing?” Lithariel asked.

“No, not at all!” Talion smiled a little forcedly, earning himself an exasperated sigh from his undead companion. “You should get some rest. We have a long march ahead.” He added a little clumsily, kicking himself internally. He was no adolescent in love - he was a married man, he could do better than that!

“I can say the same to you.” She arched an eyebrow but left without further inquiries, sensing that her presence was not welcomed by everyone present. And that did not refer to Talion.

“Your fascination is very ill-conceived.” The wraith spoke just above the Ranger's shoulder.

“Look who’s speaking!” Talion growled and spun around, but there was no more sign of Celebrimbor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The picture starts to get clearer.

In the dead of winter when stone cracked and ice crept like a vulcher's claws sinking into the blackened, dead flesh of the Earth, no good creature ventured out into the frozen wilderness. On such a pale day the wind whined between bare hills like the mournful wails of houseless spirits, and darkness was never too far away as gloom crept in the deep moors between the sharp ridges of the Hithaeglir.

Yet in the fading light of the day’s sun, which hurried to slinking back behind the horizon not long after it’s cool rays briefly broke between the icy mists, a horse's maddened dash echoed through the vale. A speeding rider with a passenger sat behind him, urged a large dark-coated animal forth. Frost splintered beneath it's heavy hoofs and steam surrounded it's rosy muzzle as it struggled on uneven frozen paths. 

Celebrimbor's arms were locked around Annatar’s trim waist as the Maia mercilessly geed the horse. It’s breaths came in pants and it’s heart laboured unnaturally, pushed beyond it’s body's limit by soundless whispers of Annatar’s barely moving lips. But the poor beast’s suffering remained unnoticed by the elf on the pillion, whose heart raced for his own sake. 

“Annatar, slow down!” Celebrimbor commanded, smoothing away notes of fear from his powerful voice with the practice of millennia of self-restraint. His tone was regal, collected and demanding, but the Maia did not heed him, did not even have the decency to glance over his shoulder and meet the Elven Lord’s steely gaze, in mocking or reassurance - Celebrimbor would have taken either.

Instead Annatar sped their horse over a narrow path between the barren cliffs, sharp rocks faces like jagged teeth on either side of the snowy path. The horse’s downward dash was fast and bumpy and Celebrimbor felt his breath being punched out of his lungs as the animal jumped over sharp boulders and slid over frozen rocks. 

The elf’s fingers instinctively clung to the maia’s felt robes, digging beneath the furs of the winter cloak and clutching both for dear life and in a desperate attempt to stave off the cold from his frigid digits. In the subzero temperatures around the skirts of the Misty Mountains, even the grace of the first-born could not spare the Lord of Eregion from freezing. An evil northern wind was blowing sharp crystals of frozen water into every bit of exposed flesh, making Celebrimbor's pale skin flush darkly, almost purple, around the nose, lips and cheeks. The tips of his pointy ears had gone from painful to numb in the last hour or so of riding and distantly Celebrimbor wondered if his ears could fall off once they unfroze back in Ost-in-Edhil. If he survived to return, of course, something that seemed all the more unlikely as the path opened to a sharp drop and a very long, and very narrow dwarven bridge, which looked as abandoned as the desolate snow-covered scenery around them. 

Celebrimbor held his breath along with the pathetic pleas that threatened to escape if he spoke. _Annatar are you insane?! Stop in the name of the One! That bridge doesn’t look stable - please don’t!_

In the end, saying nothing was not that hard - the elf's breath was taken away by sheer horror when Annatar urged the horse to jump over the last bit of fallen rocks and straight onto the narrow stone bridge. The hoofs slid on the layer of ice that covered the surface and Celebrimbor felt the screech of metal over frozen rock resonate through his bones all the way to the marrow of his teeth. A jolt of powerful adrenaline made all the hairs on his skin stand, his fingers prickle with needles and his chest contrive so tightly that there was barely space for his heart to continue beating thus madly.

In the next moment the horse found it’s footing, it’s sliding ending unnaturally at the edge, as if a force pushed it’s side back onto the bridge. Celebrimbor felt it too, like hitting an invisible wall of puissance, which made him sway, his head feeling dizzy and reeling for a moment, while the horse galloped forth. 

He shook his characteristically noldor black locks and tried to clear his head. When he looked up, or rather down, he saw a dark chasm bellow, waiting hungrily for the horse to slip or the bridge to give out under it’s ancient weight and the mass of the snow, fallen over it.

Breathless and reeling, Celebrimbor couldn’t summon the power to protest. Instead he swayed forth into Annatar’s solid form, letting his chest press to the maia’s broad back, until he was certain that his heart would not be able to escape from the cage of his ribs. Tha maia's pale blonde hair fell unbound and the wind picked it up, caressing Celebrimbor's face with its silky strands. The horse once again tripped but jolted by Annatar’s harsh kick to its flank, it jumped off a crumbling rock and managed to stay on the narrow bridge, while in the process nearly throwing off it’s riders into the bottomless drop bellow. 

In a moment of utter madness Celebrimbor laughed, an anxious, brittle thing, that picked up when Annatar smacked the reigns and geed the horse to go even faster over the crumbling stone bridge. Along their sides stone-carved columns supporting the bridge flew past, the wind of their close passing like a slap to the riders' faces. And once he had begun, Celebrimbor couldn’t stop laughing, giving an elated exclamation with each jolt, utter madness finally consuming him as they dashed on the edge of certain death.

Annatar’s gaze was now flickering back to him, eyebrows high and eyes narrowed.

“Enjoying yourself, my Lord?” The Maia’s voice was sleek like honey, even as breathless from the hard riding as it was.

“Folly-” Celebrimbor whistled, his speech interrupted by another harsh jostle. His face was split by a grin, which was neither restrained, nor sane, but he didn’t care - what did it matter if Celebrimbor’s composure was slipping if they could fall into the chasm at any moment? “This is utter folly, but… I’d be a liar if I said that it doesn’t make me feel alive.”

At that Annatar’s bewildered expression turned mischievous and a smug smile tugged his lips sharply.

“Alive, you say…” 

That was all the warning Celebrimbor got before suddenly, without warning, Annatar twisted around and shoved the elf lord off the side of the pillion. 

With a startled yelp, Celebrimbor lost his balance and flew off the side, his powerful legs locking in an iron grip around the saddle, even as his mid-section hung off the horse, held in place only by Annatar’s fist, gripping the padded tunic over Celebrimbor’s chest.

“Fuck, Annatar!” Celebrimbor shouted, mouth opened in shock and panic as his hands gripped the maia’s strong forearm and tried to pull himself back up. But his friend did not let him - the fist that was holding him from falling was also keeping him in an iron grip, at an arm’s length from climbing back onto the saddle.

“Annatar- stop! Pull me up!” Celebrimbor tried to steady his tone, not give away the racing fear, the urgency of his flesh screaming for it’s survival. They were riding so fast and with Celebrimbor dangling off the side, it was only a matter of time before the horse lost it’s balance, or…

Or Celebrimbor’s head met one of the support columns along the bridge - one such racing towards him with the speed of Annatar’s mad riding.

Seeing his impending doom, Celebrimbor began to struggle in urnest.

“Annatar, the column! Annatar, pull me up!” His strong fingers dug into Annatar’s forearm and for a moment the slight grimace of pain flickered over the maia’s calm veneer. The messenger of the valar had regarded him coolly, as if inspecting the behaviour of some animal, as Celebrimbor dangled off his arm, unaffected by his so-called friend’s struggles and cries. But once the smith’s fingertips began to cause him discomfort, Annatar regarded him more keenly and with something ugly flickering over his expression, he let go of Celebrimbor’s chest, letting the elf feel the pull of the fall bellow him for a split second, opening his mouth for a final breath, before the maia caught him once again, this time by the narrow leather belt around the Elven Lord’s waist.

“Annatar!” Celebrimbor’s eyes were wide with horror, but his voice still had the gull to be demanding. “Pull me up at once! Stop these games - I’m commanding you - pull me up!”

The Maia whispered something and at once the already strained horse galloped even harder at an unnatural speed. It’s pink tongue hung from it’s muzzle like a dog’s and it’s eyes filled with bloody tears. Celebrimbor did not see either of these things, as taken as he was by the maia’s complete disregard of him in that moment - watching those golden eyes facing the road, even as his hand was the only thing keeping the elf from falling to his death. But worst of all, in that moment, slippery thoughts of just where Annatar's hand was and just how close to Celebrimbor's loins the maia gripped him. Even as his life hanged on a thread, Celebrimbor couldn't chase away the feeling of arousal that slithered through his veins as he thought of how Annatar only needed to reach a little bit further in order to touch him where Celebrimbor needed it the most.

Just as abruptly the realisation of the quickly approaching column woke him up with a jolt from the moment of lustful fantasy, and Celebrimbor struggled to pull himself up- completely hopelessly as Annatar held him by the belt. The smith’s long legs flexed around where they could still hook over the edge of the saddle, but it was useless - he would only climb up if Annatar allowed him to.

And then in one stant-still moment, Annatar’s eyes turned to meet his and in the calm, sweet voice of his, the maia said:

“Scream.”

Celebrimbor was mute with horror, disbelieving and not trusting his ears until Annatar invited him again:

“Scream!”

“Annatar!” Celebrimbor warned, trying hard to fight the odds and pull up, away from where his upper mid section would meet the rocks. “Help me up! Now!”

“The rock is coming. Better start screaming, Tyelpe.” Annatar smirked, ignoring Celebrimbor’s words with the air of smug superiority.

“No!” Celebrimbor denied him and with one last jolt tried to pull himself up, just as they reached the column. He closed his eyes in the last moment, the impact was now inevitable, but he did not make a sound - he didn't want to give Annatar the satisfaction.

However his head did not become a bloody mess over the jagged edges of the frozen column. A new wave of puissance caused the rocks to explode just before Celebrimbor’s body met it and amidst the debris, frost and dust the Lord of Eregion was hauled up to the back of the saddle, dizzy and disorientated by the loud blast that caused his keen hearing to ring and his head to swoon. But instinct took over and his arms locked around the maia’s treacherous being once again and only then did Celebrimbor realise just how hard he was shaking, how his breath rattled with adrenaline and fear and his heart fluttered like the wings of a quicksilver butterfly. 

The bridge disappeared from underneath the horse’s hoofs and they came to a landing, which lead nowhere. A long vertical rock face stood before them, no doubt another entrance to Dwarvendell, with a door hidden to the eyes of those who did not know it’s location or it’s secrets. Celebrimbor had seen enough such doors to know where to look for one, if only he had the inclination to do so now. Thankfully with the end of the road so did their ride end. Annatar slowed down the horse to a stop, allowing them all to catch their breaths and admire the view of the snowy heights of the mountains. The wind had briefly blown away the shrouding mist revealing a majestic view of the three highest peaks.

“Funny.” Annatar commented nonchalantly as if nothing particular had just happened. “For some reason I took you for a screamer.”

“I hale from the house of Feanor.” Celebrimbor declared breathlessly, trying hard to salvage whatever dignity he could gather after the rattling incident. “My ilk does not scream like cowards.”

At that the maia laughed and it was unpleasant and entirely tasteless, especially when he said:

“I find that hard to believe.”

“What did you say?” Celebrimbor’s eyes narrowed, a sudden suspicion at glimpsing something ugly and twisted within his friend.

“Nothing.” Annatar replied brightly twisting to regard Celebrimbor with a smile. “Only that I think that under the right circumstances, anyone would scream.”

The elven lord frowned, but the maia’s closeness brought forth memories of hot lips against his, of pressure exactly where he needed it and unsated desires, sampled but denied to him in a moment of intoxicated delirium. 

Anatar's eyes shuttered by his thick blonde eyelashes as their golden gaze fell to Celebrimbor’s still heaving mouth.

Had that kiss truly happened? Had Annatar held him against the wall of a dark corridor, had he pulled the curtains around them to shield their desire from any who chanced upon those halls in the late hour of the night? Had he truly trailed his fingers over Celebrimbor’s excited flesh, allowed him to grip him and touch him likewise underneath his robes, wherever the elf could find?

The headache, which had been very real on the following morning made Celebrimbor sure that it had all been some drunken dream, but as Annatar’s breath turned to steam in the scant distance between them, the elf wasn’t certain any more.

“I just wonder what it would take.” The maia said so softly and pensively, it sounded almost as if it was to himself, and not meant for the elf to hear.

“Do you want to hear a feanorian scream?” Celebrimbor asked, a little breathlessly, raising an eyebrow in challenge, even as he felt his defences crumble and his thoughts becoming muddy and disoriented under the force of the maia’s hypnotic gaze.

“Who says that I haven’t already?” Annatar purred and before Celebrimbor could react or even think about what was being said, he leaned in and caught the elf’s lips. 

Hearth, breath and thought all went silent for a moment as the beautiful, golden, strong being kissed him, leaning back over the saddle behind which Celebrimbor perched. The elf’s arms slid tighter around Annatar’s waist and interlocked in front of him, bringing him closer into Celebrimbor’s embrace. Annatar’s hand snaked it’s way under Celebrimbor’s pronounced jawline and his fingers caressed behind the elf’s sensitive ear, making him shudder with pleasure.

Annatar pulled away first.

“Shall we ride back, my Lord?”

The ride back to Ost-in-Edhil was much the same exhilarating race over snow, ice and rock, but this time Celebrimbor found that he did not mind the maia’s rush. He clung to Annatar and he laughed in delight, feeling safer and more secure than he had ever felt before. After all, Annatar could push the horse back onto the narrow road, or explode obstacles out of their way with his mind. With a companion like that, only a coward would have been afraid, Celebrimbor told himself. And besides, how could there be a place for fear in a world where Annatar had kissed him like that? 

When they arrived at the stables, Celebrimbor’s legs were shaking as a newborn colt once he got off the saddle. Annatar put a steadying arm around his shoulders, sending thrills all over the elf’s back and another wave of joyous laughter from the Elven Lord’s usually stern lips. As he followed the maia out of the stables Celebrimbor did not glance back - blind was he for anything but the overwhelming presence beside him.

...

“How could you?! You suspected whom he was!” Talion raged, shaken, utterly appalled. The feeling of violation still clung to him, of being powerless in the dark lord’s grasp and the twisted pleasure that came from its perversion.

“What do you supposed I should have done?!” Celebrimbor’s rage was terrible, like the crackle of a nearby storm in the overhung sky. 

“Anything but enjoy it so much.” The ranger accused.

“And didn’t you?” Celebrimbor countered, a knowing note in his tone. Talion felt his not-living flesh burn in shame and the all-too-well-ignored receding arousal. 

“Talion?” The ranger turned towards the sound of Lithariel’s voice. She looked delicate, small and alone in the darkness of the Mordor night, but her tone was daring and strong. “Has your conversation with the spirit finished?”

The conversation had went into a long and thoughtful pause, but Talion was far from done with it. Lithariel of course had only heard his side of it, and the ranger dearly hoped that she had not gleaned the backwards meaning behind the words. The wraith seemed to have taken the opportunity to exit the questioning and so the ranger turned to his beautiful companion. 

“You can say that.” He said, smiling slightly. The sight of the living human woman soothed his still distressed heart. “Did I wake you up?”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” She reassured him. “What were you arguing about?”

“It’s nothing.” He lied, looking away. 

“It didn’t sound like nothing.” She sat closer to him. “Talion, you are trembling.”

“Am I?” The man raised an eyebrow and upon inspecting his shaking hands he chuckled. Figures - riding a caragor was one thing. Riding with Sauron... somehow it managed to chill him to the very core. 

“You dreamt.” She prompted.

“A nightmare. Nothing more.” He tried to smile. “Go back to sleep, Lithariel.”

The woman seemed to consider it - the days long journey across Mordor, sneaking and fighting their way through legions of orcs had not been easy for either of them. But she hesitated and when she turned to him again, her eyes were softer than usual.

“I could stay.” She offered.

Talion felt Celebrimbor bristle, but as much as the wraith was a part of him, which he could not ignore, the need for comfort and a living presence was stronger than the undead elf's hold over his heart. And he allowed her to stay, lying down on the cloak, which he had spread underneath him, near him but never touching. 

It wasn’t easy to fall asleep with her breathing so close to him in the darkness, but once he managed, the Ranger found rest in a dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celebrimbor finally gets what he wants, or does he...  
> This chapter contains violence and non-con.  
> Added some tags, check them out before reading.

Another night left her restless. The ranger kept her awake with his fitful sleep.

The man slept rarely but when he did, it was never easy to be around. Lithariel tried to keep her distance but as an expert huntress every small noise jerked her alert in the night. Talion’s pitiful noises were no exception.

Some nights she contemplated waking him to save him from his nightmares. Others, when the man’s breaths came shallow and the strange utterances that fell from his lips in languages she could not comprehend sounded like pleas, she merely wished to be as far away as possible.

Whether it was torment or ecstasy that gripped him, it was hard to tell, but it felt too raw and too personal to witness and she wanted no part in it. So she busied herself with scouting the perimeter for orcs, knowing well that when the ranger got like this, he would be of no help.

...

He walked with Annatar through the east wing of Gil Galad’s residence in Lindon. The maia had been accommodated away from the west-facing quarters of the Noldor nobility and Celebrimbor wasn't quite certain why he was walking his friend on that night when Annatar showed no signs of being in a congenial mood and neither of them had consumed enough alcohol for any drunken kissing to take place.

However something had him reeled up from earlier, and he was buzzing with a nervous energy, which wanted nothing more than to stay close and reaffirm that they had _something_ that hadn’t all perished in the wake of political intrigue and high-collared meetings.

Annatar opened his door and let Celebrimbor in without ceremony. 

“Care for another drink?” Annatar invited and Celebrimbor nodded, sitting on Annatar’s guest bed.

Annatar brought their glasses to the edge of the bed, where he also sat.

Celebrimbor’s heart was racing and he tried not to spill the overflowing goblet down his finely embroidered front. They quickly finished their drinks and when nothing happened, Celebrimbor gathered his courage and set his goblet aside. He gently took Annatar’s from his fingers and boldly leaned forward to kiss his lips.

The maia did not stiffen, he did not push the elf away or show any discomfort - Annatar remained still as Celebrimbor did his best to stir his interest with the kiss. 

Soon enough Celebrimbor pulled back. Annatar merely sighed and looked at him in an odd way.

“Perhaps I should go.” Celebrimbor said through his clenching throat, heart sinking with a vague sense of confusion and dreary despair.

“Not yet.” Annatar answered and the hand catching his wrist was abrupt and the yank slightly too forceful, but once Celebrimbor sat back down, it was gentle and slow as it pushed him down to lie on his back.

Celebrimbor went willingly, peering up to see what Annatar’s intentions were. The maia slowly slid over the bed until he sat right by Celebrimbor’s prone form and looked down at him.

Celebrimbor run his tongue over his mouth, hardly controlling the fast inhales flying through parted lips. Annatar’s hand rose to his throat and slowly traced the jumping vein where the quick rate of his pulse could be seen as much as felt.

When those strong fingers applied the slightest ghost of pressure, the elf's eyes fluttered shut and he gasped.

“Annatar, please-” Celebrimbor didn’t know what he was begging for.

With one elegant movement, Annatar straddled him across the legs. Celebrimbor reached up in an attempt to bring them closer, but was shoved on his back.

“Stay down.” Annatar commanded.

Celebrimbor shivered and locked eyes with him as Annatar's hands unlaced the elf's heavy robes, quickly disrobing him. The elven lord allowed it.

The maia's expression was predatory in his slow examination of the elf's bare skin, exposed amongst the opened clothing. Celebrimbor's desire flagged and his cheeks were burning. 

“Haven't you been a little importunate today.” Annatar commented drily, his smile unkind, even mocking.

Celebrimbor bit his lip, trying to suppress his impatience and stop twitching underneath the maia’s maddening weight.

“And you still want something from me.” Annatar tilted his head to the side, his pale locks sliding over the front of his shoulder. 

Celebrimbor attempted to rise, but the maia pushed him down easily. 

“You are going to have to tell me.”

“Please don’t make me speak it.” Celebrimbor breathed.

“What's the matter?” Annatar raised a smooth brow. “Are you ashamed of what you want?"

He gave a meaningful pause and then added:

"Would you have been so shy, if I was a certain cousin of yours?”

At Celebrimbor’s shocked expression, Annatar continued.

“I saw your eyes straying to her too many times today.”

“Galadriel... That was a long time ago.” Celebrimbor tried hard to replace the shame in his voice with frustration.

“I wasn’t talking about her.”

At Celebrimbor’s confused expression he elaborated.

“Her daughter, the little lady Celebrian-”

“I have never looked at her in that way!” Celebrimbor's tone sharply rose in indignation and he pushed himself to his elbows with Annatar on top.

“Maybe you haven't, but she definitely looks at you.” Annatar purred, leaning closer to Celebrimbor’s face. “But you noticed. Don't act so offended as if you didn't. I saw you stealing glances at her.”

“Watch your tongue, Annatar!” The elf narrowed his eyes. “It’s not what you make of it. And do not speak to me of my niece in that way -”

“More like your third cousin.” Annatar corrected and at the offended look on Celebrimbor’s face he added: “I never knew that you were one for double standards."

Having long gone cold, Celebrimbor tried to shove the maia off and leave, but Annatar expertly rode his wriggling until the elf gave up and fixed him an angry glare.

At Annatar's answering laugh, Celebrimbor flinched. He knew that game, but he still believed that he had counter-moves that could work, and so he tried responding calmly, patiently.

“A very long time ago, Galadriel was to me, what I may be to Celebrian now - something new and unobtainable, an object of a fascination, and a milestone in the growth to adulthood.” Turning his eyes to his friend sincerely, the elf spoke as empathetically, as he could. “It means nothing, Annatar. She is just a child.”

“I never thought that you were one for lies either.” The maia smiled back sweetly. The wild joy, which Celebrimbor could see in those merciless eyes, scared him.

“Are you getting jealous, Annatar?” He asked flatly. “Or do you feel so threatened by Lady Galadriel that you need to spin these webs?”

“I was merely trying to find the source of your strange mood. You have been so uncharacteristically solemn and uptight since Lord Celeborn and his Lady arrived.” Annatar said, fingers tracing the elf's bare chest dispassionately. “As for your questions, no, and no.”

Celebrimbor rolled his lower lip between his teeth before he caught himself, and forced his eyes away from his friend. Annatar was still fixed on him.

“Now you are the one, who's lying.” Celebrimbor countered in the heavy silence between them. His hands hurriedly pulled the multi-layered regalia over his torso, covering his exposed skin. “You are jealous and you are threatened. Ever she’s been against you staying in Eregion and so has Gil Galad. You are afraid that I might heed her if she would raise her concerns about you in front of the High King.”

“Would you?” Annatar’s eyebrows rose together in a mockery of distress, even as his mouth was wickedly smirking. “Are you going to cast me out, just because the woman, who did not love you, tells you so?”

“Stop speaking nonsense!” Celebrimbor’s patience was running thin. “You know that I would never cast you aside… after all that you’ve done for the Mirdain. I have told you many times that I am grateful for your assistance and the knowledge, which you have given us. Together we made Ost-in-Edhil into what it currently is. And-”

“And?” Annatar slowly placed his hands on either side of Celebrimbor's head and shifted his weight forward until he was hovering just above him.

“I need you, Annatar.” Celebrimbor admitted with his heart in his throat.

“And I need you.” Annatar smiled dangerously.

A fierce longing latched to Celebrimbor’s heart and in that moment he couldn't care less about Annatar’s disconcerting games or the dishonesty of his earlier words - instead he reached up with his whole body, trying to kiss-

“When she tries to separate us again, tell her that she is no longer welcomed into your city.” Annatar told him and Celebrimbor stopped midway.

“You are overstepping your bounds.” Celebrimbor scolded, but Annatar merely rose up to a seated position over his legs and looked away thoughtfully.

“There is something I’ve been wanting to show you.” Annatar added as if he hadn’t heard him. “A project that has been on my mind for a while. Something that could change everything.”

“Everything?” The elf squinted sceptically. His treacherous heart beating fast, his mind having misinterpreted Annatar’s meaning for a split second. He tried to keep his mind from wondering as Annatar’s scorching eyes returned to his. “What kind of project are you talking about?”

Annatar right hand slid to Celebrimbor’s jaw, cupping his face in a gesture that felt genuinely tender. Celebrimbor blinked at him in disbelief.

“Remember when we spoke about the world, of how it could become better? I think I have the answer now.”

“You do?” Celebrimbor exhaled, in a tone that was wholly off, but Annatar did not seem to notice.

“Imagine tools, which could allow us to reshape the world from an elemental level. Imagine tools that draw energy from the elements themselves.”

“Is that even possible?” Celebrimbor shifted underneath him, trying to find a more comfortable position and to remain focused.

“I know the words of creation. I know the elements by their real names. It should be possible.” Annatar spoke pensively. “But I would need your help.”

Celebrimbor bit his lip and nodded.

"What do you need?" 

"All the resources that the Gwaith-i-Mirdain has to offer." Annatar said, his forefinger tracing a line to Celebrimbor’s mouth, feeling its soft pads gently. "I would need your finest craftsmen. But most importantly, I need you. To trust me. Completely.”

Celebrimbor nodded eagerly.

“Good.” Annatar smiled and leaned down to finally concede him a kiss.

Celebrimbor could barely breathe as Annatar let his body descend over his and move sinuously on top of him. Those hands moved from his jaw to his neck. Annatar rose up anew and it took Celebrimbor longer than it should to register the first pangs of oxygen hunger as his breath was denied to him.

“Awk-argh…” The clicking sounds coming from his throat as he choked came as a surprise.

“Ann-ah…” His fingers dug into the clutching ones around his throat, his vision fuzzy around the edges. Annatar was holding him down with both hands, looking at him so calmly as Celebrimbor arched and buckled with increasing panic.

Just as sparks began to fill his quickly darkening vision, the pressure disappeared but before he managed to fill his lungs with air, Annatar’s mouth descended on his, kissing him deeply. Under the sweet heat of those lips, Celebrimbor’s body capitulated and he fell back on the bed, shuddering hard.

“Don’t be afraid.” Annatar breathed against his mouth and bit his lower lip viciously.

“Aw!” The elf exclaimed and jerked away, only to get one more bite on the corner of his mouth. “Oh, Annatar, stop.”

The maia’s fingers closed around his wrists, pushing his hands over his head with alarming ease. Celebrimbor yanked his arms back, but only succeed in stretching a muscle. Annatar's grip was vice-like and as unflinching as stone. The maia rose to his knees and dragged the elf over the bed without any visible effort, causing another surprised yell from Celebrimbor, before his wrists were pressed to the headboard.

“Annatar?” Celebrimbor’s heart was in his throat again. “What are you doing?”

Annatar yanked the sash from the canopy and unceremoniously began tightening it around Celebrimbor’s wrists.

“Why are you… tying me up?” Celebrimbor took a deep breath as his wrists were firmly pinned to the intertwined solid wood railings of the headboard. When Annatar pulled back to admire his handiwork, Celebrimbor smiled crookedly. “You really shouldn’t have - I’m not going anywhere.”

“On the contrary. This is important.” Annatar said, as he began to loosen the ties of his robes. Celebrimbor’s eyes glued to the newly exposed skin and his mouth fell opened. He had never seen Annatar in anything less than full-length, buttoned-up regalia and the sight of the skin that began to emerge took his breath away. “It’s about trust.”

“I trust you.” Celebrimbor uttered heedlessly.

Annatar’s smile was all teeth as he undid his white belt and coiled it in his hands. Celebrimbor watched the maia slap the straps of leather over his palm three times before the first spark of recognition lit up within him. He looked up at Annatar’s eyes questioningly and immediately wished he hadn’t.

As if he could sense Celebrimbor's agitation, Annatar put the belt aside, but it remained on the bed, close at hand. The maia slowly lifted his nimble fingers to his upper layers and slowly began stripping before Celebrimbor's longing eyes.

The elf’s reaction was instant - his breath picked up and he flexed against his restraints, wishing to be set free and allowed to caress, kiss and explore. Annatar smiled knowingly but did not untie him, instead he shrugged off his top and knelt on the bed naked from the waist up, a seductive vision of warm skin and shimmering hair. His face was so devastatingly handsome, and the intent in his blazing gaze so evident, Celebrimbor couldn't keep still in his impatience.

Slowly he moved forward until he was hovering on his knees above Celebrimbor’s hips, looking down at him.

“Do you want this?” He asked, eyes never leaving the elf’s.

“Yes.” Celebrimbor accented eagerly.

“And you choose this?” Annatar’s hand tipped Celebrimbor’s chin up as his other hand quickly pushed the elf's robes aside.

“Yes, I do.” Celebrimbor nodded, feeling only a vague sense of anxiety.

“Don’t forget that.” Annatar commanded softly before he pulled the opened robes from underneath Celebrimbor, leaving the elf naked on the sheets, with his arms still tied over his head. He proceeded to unlace his breeches, exposing the top of his sculpted abdominal and pulling out his half-hard member. His hand coaxed it to fullness with a few strokes, movements which Celebrimbor watched with his mouth gaping.

When he dared to look up at Annatar’s eyes, he found his expression amused.

“Like what you see?” He asked, and Celebrimbor bit his lips and looked away in mortification. His exposed body was screaming loudly enough what he thought about the display.

But when Annatar spit on his hand and reached between his legs, pushing two fingers inside the elf, Celebrimbor jerked in pain and shock.

“Wait -what? No!” Celebrimbor protested making Annatar laugh, but not succeeding in any way in deterring him. The digits entered him fully and besides the surprise and the discomfort, Celebrimbor felt a sick feeling in his belly at his protests being ignored. “Wait, Annatar. Wait-”

“Do I have to remind you already that you agreed to this?” Annatar sighed in mock exasperation.

“But I thought...” Celebrimbor hesitated.

“What did you expect?” Annatar asked. “Surely you knew how this works.”

With that he pushed another finger inside without any visible concern.

“You are hurting me.” Celebrimbor grid between his teeth. He tried to keep the desperation from his voice, but it earned him nothing as Annatar continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “Stop it, Annatar. This is not what I wanted!”

Annatar merely raised an eyebrow before continuing to slick his length with the remains of the saliva on his hand. At the sight of the hard piece of flesh, Celebrimbor began to panic.

“Wait- please wait-” He began kicking around Annatar’s kneeling form. It was all futile. The maia lifted him by the hips and drew him to his waist until the tip of his member pressed firmly against Celebrimbor’s entrance. “Annatar, no-”

The elf broke into a hiss of pain as the maia forcefully penetrated him.

“Hush, Tyelpe.” Annatar spoke calmly. “I'm really not hurting you.”

Celebrimbor tried to hold back his pained noises, even as tears formed at the edges of his vision. Annatar was silent as he pressed all the way in. He began moving and it hurt. Celebrimbor kept his eyes tightly shut and in a distant part of himself felt disappointed. 

“That’s it. You’re doing good.” Annatar murmured and Celebrimbor opened his tear-filled eyes to look at his beloved’s face. The golden ones that met him were bright enough to burn and he couldn’t help the pang of arousal that squeezed his insides at the sight of the one he desired.

Annatar’s movements within him became easier and through the stretch and the pain, lust began to cloud his head. His softened erection was quickly filling up to rub between them. Annatar’s closeness, his breath fanning over the dampness on his heated body, the softness of the maia's hair, the heavy press of his hips between Celebrimbor’s legs - pleasure quickly began to replace the feeling of violation. His arms were hurting from the tug of the restraints but it could hardly matter. The hot slide inside him felt so arousing that he couldn't care less about anything beyond that maddening thrill. 

Annatar was watching him closely.

“You are quite fetching like this.” Annatar commented and Celebrimbor couldn’t help the dirty moan that escaped him.

Annatar reached over for the discarded belt and briefly paused his movements within him to show the dazed elf the white stretch of leather.

“What do you want me to do with it?” He asked and yanked it between his hands.

“N-nothing.” Celebrimbor gasped, blinking rapidly. “Let's- just finish… like this.”

“But I’m only just starting.” Annatar shook his head. “Oh, I know-”

The maia wrapped the belt around the column of Celebrimbor’s throat like a leash and tightened the buckle until it dug an angry red stripe across the elf’s throat. Once again he was choking but this time with Annatar inside him, taking pleasure from his struggling body. Celebrimbor wriggled on Annatar’s cock, muscles straining and clenching senselessly around it. The maia fucked him faster, with more gusto, even as the elf soundlessly screamed.

"Oh, Tyelpe.” Annatar moaned, his pupils blown wide with lust.

In a few minutes, or was it seconds, Celebrimbor couldn’t tell in his oxygen-deprived state, Annatar loosened the belt and allowed him to take in a breath. With the first gulp of air, his whole body convulsed and he was cumming mind-numbingly hard with a series of choked off, broken cries. Black spots danced in his vision and in the wake of the receding rush his head swam as if filled with cotton. Sensations came one at a time - the blurred vision of Annatar’s smile, the frantic rhythm of his heart, the searing pain in his cramped muscles, and finally the embarrassing wetness over his stomach.

And through it all the maia did not slow down his rhythm.

“Don’t-” He cried, but Annatar tightened the belt and pounded his painfully over-stimulated hole until he nearly blacked out.

For a while Annatar alternated between tightening the coil and loosening it just enough for him to remain conscious. He never let him have enough to stay lucid or to stop choking at any given time. Soon Celebrimbor was too tired to fight - lying limp and allowing the maia to take him however he liked.

Then Annatar punched him across the cheek. Celebrimbor’s ears rang and he tasted blood. 

“Help-” He gasped when he was allowed to breathe. “Guards-”

Annatar laughed.

“Do you really want someone to see you like this?”

“Annatar, don’t, please-” The elf choked out, true fear shaking his voice.

Annatar tightened the belt anew and Celebrimbor fought with all he had, trashing hard enough to break the railing that held his wrists tied.

"Ooh!" Annatar let out a delighted shout when Celebrimbor's elbows collided with his ribs hard enough to crunch. He rode out the elf's violent struggles until they completely died down again and then loosened the belt.

As soon as he could draw air, Celebrimbor pulled the rope fully free of the headboard and snaked his hands out of the tight restraints. The warm liquid that trickled down his wrists helped with that, and soon he was free to throw a punch at Annatar’s leering face. His fist smacked Annatar across the teeth, before his bloodied wrists were caught and forced down by his head. Annatar leaned down and kissed him, using his leverage to enter him deeper.

“No-fuck, oh- Annatar” Celebrimbor gasped, averting his face from the kiss. He was getting too tired and bruised to keep struggling and with each thrust something within him was breaking. Treacherous pleasure crept through his belly, making it harder to fight, harder to resist. “Please, oh please-”

His head fell back and his legs spread further on their own, and he was close to tears and so close to cumming, but Annatar slowed down, purposefully delaying his orgasm.

“Remember when you said that Feanorians don’t scream?” Annatar sounded breathless.

Celebrimbor blinked back tears.

“Let's see how long you will last.” The maia said as he pulled out and sat back on his knees to regard Celebrimbor’s wrecked form. 

It wasn’t a question, and Celebrimbor grunted as he was flipped on his front and Annatar returned to kneel above him, belt in hand.

“Stop, I'm warning you,” Celebrimbor growled, pushing himself to shaky all fours, but the answering lash that came across his buttocks had him gasping in surprise and pain.

Another few lashes and he was back to lying on his front, arms covering the back of his head as the blows seemed to come sporadically and landed wherever they might. For a few minutes Celebrimbor hoped that it would stop, but when the whipping did not let up or slow down, the pain and desperation gave him the final push and he fought back, twisting on the bed and grabbing for the falling belt. In a last-ditch attempt, blinking back sweat and tears, the elf caught the strip of leather and it stung as it wrapped around his bloody fist, but after a short grapple, Celebrimbor managed to wrestle it out of Annatar's hold.

With a shout of anger, Celebrimbor slung the belt around and whipped Annatar just bellow the eye, barely scratching his deceptively delicate skin. A moment later they were both frozen in shock, but while Celebrimbor was ready to apologise, Annatar's eyes shone even brighter with a hellish light. He grabbed for Celebrimbor, who managed to land a few harsh lashes over the maia's face, neck and chest, but Annatar didn't seem to care - he pressed an elbow over the elf's neck, pinning his back over the blood-stained sheets. He pulled Celebrimbor's legs apart and entered him with sickening ease.

The trusts that followed were brutal and fast, executed with the single-minded purpose of release. Celebrimbor wriggled in his hold, succeeding only to make his torment worse, as Annatar fucked him regardless of the odd angles to which he twisted, the sounds of pain and protests that fell from his lips.

Too tired to fight, Celebrimbor just let it happen, until he came a second time and fell asleep of exhaustion while Annatar was still not done with him.

…

“Fuck - No! Stop!” Talion woke up kicking and screaming with full lungs. Even as the familiar darkness surrounded him, the star-filled sky above and the quiet sound of insects amidst the Mordor fields, he still couldn’t shake the unclean feeling that clung to him.

Fighting off enemies that were not there, he jumped to his feet.

“Fuck! FUCK!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

Not far away Lithariel was already fully awake and clutching her knife with her heart beating fast.

“Hell- fuck-” The ranger was kicking the earth beneath his feet, lashing out mindlessly at nothing. “Fuck you, Celebrimbor! Go fuck yourself- Go...”

“Talion.” Lithariel stood in his path.

“Get away! Out of my way!” Talion growled and the young woman moved aside allowing him to leave.

She watched him disappear amidst the shrubs, walking fast. She knew better than to try to speak to him. He had a savage look in his eyes that scared her, despite being a mighty fighter of her own. She preferred to take her chances to any nearby orcs, who might have heard his racket.

…

“I am sorry about last night.” Talion was back in the morning.

He looked haggard. His eyes were rimmed in red and his face was paler and more lacklustre than ever, reminding Lithariel more of the gravewalker and less of the man whom she had begun to know.

“You don’t have to apologise.” She said.

“I scared you.”

“Ha!” She laughed. “It takes more than a screaming man to scare me.”

Talion smiled bitterly.

“Thank you.” He said. And after a few moments added: “I know I haven’t been the best travelling companion.”

“You do fine for a travelling companion. Just not the best bedfellow.” She smirked.

Now it was Talion’s turn to chuckle. Then he abruptly stopped and turned the other way.

“Do not speak to me.” Talion murmured very quietly, but the cold tone made Lithariel’s skin crawl.

“You two having a tiff?” She asked lightly.

“A tiff?” Talion turned back to her. "No. This would be where we get a divorce.”

“What did he do?” Lithariel narrowed her eyes.

Talion made an odd expression and turned away.

"For everyone's sake, I think it's better if I leave you out of this." He reasoned.

"I feel like you should talk to me." The blonde disagreed. "I've seen you, Talion. I don't like how those nightmares torment you. Perhaps if you could speak of it..."

"It would change nothing." The ranger shook his head. "Please let it rest."

"Fine." She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "But at least speak with _him_. I'm tired of enduring those strange nights and your moods."

Lithariel walked away briskly and Talion sighed deeply.

"She is right, Talion." The wraith spoke. "Ignoring me isn't going to achieve anything. Are you ready to hear my side of the story?"

"You mean your excuses?" Talion narrowed his eyes, turning to the undead elf. "Sure, why not. Let me hear how you justify all of this."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talion and the wraith have a chapter-long conversation about Celebrimbor's issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who've actually played Shadow of Mordor - I haven't forgotten about Celebrimbor's "family" or the way the game's cutscenes played out. I'm changing some stuff for the purpose of the fic, others I will address later :D

Rainstorms in Mordor were a common thing. They reminded Talion of orc raids - sudden, violent and loud. At first the wind picked up dust, swirling it in the air and hurling it at the faces of whoever was unfortunate enough to be out in the open. Then the thunder came and it sounded like the sky was coming crashing down over the tortured soil of the Land of Shadow. By the time the lightning cracked through the storm clouds, reminding the ranger of predatory fingers reaching through the horizon towards the still peaceful lands of Gondor, muddy rivers of rainwater rushed down paths and roads. The downpour collected in ditches and flooded the lowlands, dragging filth and bones along with its mucky tide.

In such weather Talion had once needed shelter, but the biting wind, which beat his soaked ranger's leathers around his frame, couldn't get so much as a shiver from him anymore. Still, by force of habit, he huddled under the half-ruined wall of a second-age fortress as a tempest split the sky overhead.

“I had recently lost a friend when he came to me.” The wraith was shouting over the drumming of heavy raindrops. There was of course no need for the spirit to do so, Talion heard his voice as if it originated within the walls of his own body. 

“It was a pale morning, in mid autumn when he arrived.” Celebrimbor recalled, still raising his voice over the rustling of the scarce trees. Their twisted branches bent nearly to the point of breaking in the gale, shedding their sickly leaves over the ground. “I was alone in the target practice, only recently having returned to Ost-in-Edhil after a funeral in Khazad-dum. It was early and there was no one with me. That suited me just right - I was seeking solitude and the comfort in the simple action of taking aim and shooting an arrow.”

Celebrimbor paused as if lost in memory. In his silence, the wind howled amongst the half-collapsed walls and the rain splattered loudly over Talion’s broad shoulders. The dead leaves were soggy under the ranger's boots. The man wrapped his ragged cloak tighter around himself. The action felt comforting, even if the cold did not hurt him anymore.

“This bow was new to me then.” The spectre lifted Azkâr, a weapon which Talion had seen in use many times over. “Narvi had it made for me. It is the only one of its kind. Dwarves rarely use bows and they never make ones as big or as heavy as the one I carry. My friend personally carved the runes on it. It is a priceless gift.”

“One that you took to the grave.” Talion smirked despite his gloomy mood. He knew that bow. He had always wanted to know more about its mysterious giver, whose name Celebrimbor had pronounced with reverence when he had translated the inscriptions on his bow. How long ago, the Ranger couldn't tell. Time had ceased to make sense once he was dead.

He tried to picture the dwarf and the wraith as they had been when alive - one as different from the other as could be, yet standing together in friendship. He could hardly summon the image - he had not seen many dwarves in his lifetime, nor elves. Not to mention, he couldn't imagine what the wraith might have looked like when he had been alive, apart from the basics. Dark hair, Talion knew almost as certainly as he knew the colour of his own. Burning, bright eyes. He supposed that Celebrimbor had been beautiful once, but at present it was hard to imagine it. Looking at the image of horribly broken flesh and bone that composed his face, Talion had wondered more than once how the wraith had died. What manner of horrible end had befallen him to leave him scarred in that way? Having looked for too long, Talion averted his eyes.

“I didn't choose what to take with me beyond the living flesh. But I suppose I needed Azkâr more than I needed my finery or jewels, or even my tools. There is nothing left for me to make here." Celebrimbor mused darkly. "But on that day, this bow served me only for the purpose of finding solace. For while my friend was forever lost to me, it's permanence and the act of shooting it, helped me take my mind off the ephemerality of everything on Middle Earth. That, and also the worrisome number of amassed duties, which I had to see to quickly after my absence. Amongst them, the particularly odd news of a wandering stranger who claimed to be a Maia of Aule.”

Talion crossed his arms tighter around his chest and his frown deepened.

"You'd have to explain that, if you'd like me to understand a word you said."

"Sauron was one of the Maiar, powerful spirits who helped the Valar shape Arda." Celebrimbor explained and then after some hesitation added: "In other words, he could exert his will on matter and shape the world. However, it used to take a great deal of effort for him to do so. That's why he needed me."

"You mean to tell me that you helped Sauron become more powerful than he already was!?" Talion asked in sheer disbelief.

"Yes." The wraith confirmed. "But not on purpose, since at first I truly did not know whom he was. He had introduced himself to the High King of my people as a servant of the Valar Aule, who was a friend of the Noldor and a teacher to my Grandfather. To have one from his court amongst us sounded like a blessing, since Aule was the greatest craftsman amongst the Lords of the West. And in the Gwaith-in-Mirdain we were all craftsmen and we yearned to expand our knowledge and regain what arts we had lost since leaving Valinor."

"Didn't it seem too good to be true?" The ranger narrowed his eyes.

"I had lived in darkness for too long to let suspicion stop me from reaching for hope." Celebrimbor shook his head. "For a while, his coming and the following prosperity for all in Ost-in-Edhil, as well as all the nations and races who counted themselves as our allies, seemed like the very reason why I had survived the First Age. My family was responsible for a lot of the evil that happened to the Eldar and I had often wondered if I were cursed, or if I deserved to live after so many had perished as a consequence of their actions. As Feanor's grandson, and a cruelly accurate reflection of him, some thought that I didn't, but I was determined to prove them wrong. When Annatar joined my side, for a while, all rejoiced me and I was able to throw off the veil of doom that had been over me through my entire conscious life."

Celebrimbor paused his fast speech, restraining the growing emotional edge in his voice.

"But I am getting ahead of myself. I have not told you the entire story yet. Would you like to hear how it all started? How he won me over and tricked me into trusting him?"

Talion nodded gravely while in his head, he was already coming to his own conclusions on the matter.

“I knew to expect him, but I did not expect to meet him so soon. Gil Galad’s letter had traveled to me swiftly and by my fairest estimation, this emissary could not reach Ost-in-Edhil before Spring. Autumn’s chill had already made some roads hard to travel and Winter was never too far away in the foothills of the Misty Mountains. Apparently none of that had hindered him, because he was there, less than a week after the arrival of the High King's message."

Celebrimbor paused as if gathering back his memories, or choosing his words carefully.

“I felt him looking at me long before I heard or saw him. It was hard to ignore the weight of his attention. I am certain that even a mortal would have felt that formidable focus turning on them. It was as if the air around me shimmered and vibrated, as if the energy of his attention ionized the building blocks of the world itself. I thought I was ready to face him but when I turned and first laid eyes upon him, I was stricken by everything that he was. His entire being shined more radiantly than the sun. There was power in his presence, and such a pure manifestation of purpose in his gaze that I was immediately, irreversibly drawn. ”

Talion grid his teeth but said nothing, only leaning away from the wraith and turning his head toward the sky.

He knew the emotion that Celebrimbor was trying to articulate. He had experienced it in those dreams - the vertigo effect that Sauron had on the elf, the way time seemed to stop whenever their eyes met. Like water over sand, like ice left in the sun - the head-spinning, mind-numbing, heart-stopping shock of a body completely capitulating and a soul laying bare.

The cold spray of raindrops breaking over the wall, under which Talion took shelter, showered the ranger's closed eyes. He welcomed the sensation. The smell of the rain, the metalic taste of volcanic dust it left on his lips.

"There was no mistake that he was one of the beings whom had shaped Arda. " Celebrimbor continued. "And seeing him, it made me wish for Aman's splendour all the more, awakening the deep sadness, which came over me every time I contemplated the state of Middle Earth. How everything that grows here ends up withering away, how everything that we build is but temporary, destined to fall apart before the end.

“When he approached me, it was under the pretence of wanting to know about my bow." The wraith added. "He said that he was fascinated by it, having never seen anything like it. He wanted to examine it and I let him hold it.”

Talion shot Celebrimbor a disgusted look. _‘Is there anything about you that Sauron hasn't held?’_ , it said, but the elf seemed to misinterpret it.

“Yes. I know it was all an act,” The ancient spirit stated matter-of-factly. “His humbled traveling cloak, which barely concealed the shimmering white layers below; the worn cloth of its sleeves, short enough to tease with the richly bejewelled rings that adorned his fingers sparkling just bellow the hem. His eyes were golden and even with the hood over his head, his luxurious locks fell forward over his chest, giving away an air of absolute decadence. And how he burned - it was impossible to mistake him for one of the Eldar - it was clear he was something else, something more.”

Talion glared at the wistfulness in the wraiths voice, but Celebrimbor barely noticed him as he recalled the past.

“He even had the gall to mention that weapons were not his area of interest or expertise, but the Hadhodrim were a people that had always fascinated him.” Celebrimbor laughed joylessly. “A hook, one which I bit readily, and he explained upon my questioning that his old master Aule had created them.”

Celebrimbor visibly cringed and looked away shaking his head.

“It makes me sick to remember how easily he played me then. It worked, all his little teasing and tricks - it got me curious, got me enthralled and the way he looked at me in that strange, unwavering way of his - it made my heart race. It made my skin crawl and my instincts screamed that he was dangerous, but his flattering, practiced subservient manner spoke otherwise - it whispered to me that I was stronger, better, able to contain him, wield him like a tool, exploit him. I trusted in that voice because it was far too tempting to resist."

"What were you thinking? Were you thinking-" The ranger shook his head with disbelief.

“I thought I saw advantage to be taken in what Gil Galad and Galadriel had cast away in fear." The wraith insisted. "I believed that I was braver than them, because I had less to lose. I knew that what I had were mere crumbs of the potential, which was before me. He exploited that desire, and he delivered beyond any grandeur I had dared to imagine, but at such cost…”

“This is pure folly!" Talion jabbed a finger at him in accusation. “You were already a Lord! How much more could you possibly want?”

“Were you not paying attention to anything I said earlier?” Celebrimbor’s answer came heated in return. “Nothing on Middle Earth could compare to the standard against which I held myself. I was not born in the Second Age, Talion. I was older than its destruction and decay, and it made me ache. It must be easy to be content with your lot when you merely visit Arda, unlike we Elves, who are tied to this world.”

“Are you saying that you sided with Sauron, because Middle Earth wasn't good enough for you?” The ranger was running his fingers through his hair with barely constrained anger.

“That is not how it was! I wanted to heal the world, not bend it to my will. There is a difference in that, one which Sauron too could not comprehend. I can see why he preferred the Atani to the Eldar - your race is a lot more like him then mine.” Celebrimbor finished his angry speech with a firm crossing of his arms around his chest and turning away in sullen silence.

Talion let out a frustrated sigh. He knew that arguing with the elf wasn't going to get him anywhere. Celebrimbor was unreasonably stubborn and exceedingly patient. The ranger was certain that the wraith could spend a hundred years sulking and waiting for an apology, time which Talion could not sacrifice.

Reluctantly the man turned to the elf once more, attempting to lighten the mood with his next words:

“What happened then? After you chatted about bows and dwarves, what else did he say to seduce you?”

“He didn't seduce me so easily. It took years for him to seep into me, and at first, despite his honeyed words and insistent pressure to bend me to his own will, I played him a little as well." Celebrimbor said. "I introduced myself as the Lord of Eregion when the conversation took that turn, and he imitated surprise perfectly. He hurried to introduce himself as well, and apologised for his informal manner. I have no doubt that he knew whom I was when he approached me, and that he knew enough about me to attempt to appeal to me in ways that would work. But it didn't seem like a bad thing at the time - I believed it only underlined the fact that I had power over him. After all, it was him who came to me, begging to be admitted into my city."

The ancient spirit chuckled.

"He was most humbled when I offered to escort him to where he needed to go. I walked with him, despite his reluctance and when he stopped, making a grand show of gratitude, I brushed him off saying that I had other matters to attend.”

“He let you brush him off?” Talion huffed in rueful amusement.

“Not without a spark of anger under that amiable facade, which I noticed despite not being so adept to reading him then like I was later. He must have been seething inside when I dismissed him, as if he were nothing more than a common messenger, but he bowed to me regardless." Celebrimbor smiled at the memory.

“After that meeting I purposefully made myself hard to get. He could see me around but I refused to be awed by his displays of beauty or power. He had both in spades, but I wanted him to realise that he needed to impress me, not the other way around. In the beginning it was so, he kept coming to me, giving all his time and attention to me. I knew I had him and I was already making plans of how I was going to use him, even before he was formally accepted by the council of Ost-in-Edhil.”

"I wouldn't have been so confident." Talion’s eyes were hard on the wraith. "Although I imagine that having a being that some would call a God, under your heel, must have gotten to your head."

“It did, and the rush of that feeling was stronger than reason." Celebrimbor sighed. "His presence quickly became addictive and when the time for decisions came, I was keen on getting him to join the Gwaith-i-Mirdain. My council was largely against him staying, even after he introduced himself to them as one of the Anuir and made his honeyed promises of assistance and teaching of secrets and knowledge beyond our wildest dreams. However, I supported him and turned the favour of my advisers to him. He was then welcomed amongst us and he immediately put himself to work to astonish us.

“The first gift he gave was for me - the same hammer, which you saw in the visions we shared. The Forger of Rings, made entirely of mythril. It was truly a fine gift, and one that awoke my appetite for even finer works. It both thrilled and scared me to hold it in my hands, just as its maker made me feel whenever he was beside me. And when we worked together, I felt as if we were the only ones left in the world, as if everything else disappeared, time stopped and it was just me, him, and whatever complex idea we were discussing. He made me feel as if it could last forever."

“You sound as if you were in love with him.” Talion said carefully. It was something he had thought for a while, but had not dared to put into words previously.

“Unfortunately." The wraith groaned. "My desire to own turned into a desire to hold, to love, and I have no illusion that it wasn't what he wanted, in order to reverse the tables on me. When he began to act as if he wanted my company and seemed interested to get to know me, beyond our work, I was already hooked on him enough that it wasn't such a big step to become hopelessly smitten. Soon enough, I wished for him to like me and to desire me, more than I wanted anything else from him. And I wanted a lot of him, kept asking for more, no matter how much he gave.

"As time passed and Annatar taught us, the Gwaith-i-Mirdain began to rise in prestige, and so did my power. He always allowed me to take credit for the splendour that we built and in a couple of centuries I found myself with more influence than Celeborn and Galadriel ever had over Eregion. Some were even questioning the High King's rule when my city was growing richer and bigger than any other settlement of the Elves on this side of the Western sea. I never wanted the title - that's why I never reached for it, but it could have been mine, had I but extended my hand.

“By that time I had already allowed him to have me and he held my heart and my body in a tight coil. Things had changed - it was him demanding and me giving. He wanted Galadriel gone, and even if at the time I knew it was a bad decision to evict her family, and leave myself alone and vulnerable, once we made the Seven and I bestowed them to the Dwarven Lords as he had asked, I felt elated enough to heed him and told Galadriel that she didn’t need to stay if she disliked what we did in Ost-in-Edhil.

"She left but not before she warned me for the final time against my bond with Annatar. She knew, of course - it was not something that I could hide from her, even if I tried.”

“You seemed to hold her at a great esteem.” Talion frowned. “Why did you disregard her advice? Was it out of bitterness because she rejected you?”

“No. I had accepted her rejection an age since. I disregarded her, because I felt tired of caution and secrecy - I believed that what we wrought in the Gwaith-i-Mirdain was good and that it would inspire more good by its very nature. I thought that she was against Annatar, because she didn't understand him, didn't understand us, and what we were trying to accomplish. The Nine, which we offered to the leaders of Men, brought about prosperity and healing to their nations. The rings extended the lives of their wearers and I believed that it was a step closer to perfection, while Annatar only saw it as a means of control. I remember it keenly now, and it shames me to having dismissed it back then. He said to me: _'Those who worry about the growing strength of the Westerners are fools. Men will always be easily controlled, because you have what they ultimately want.'_ ”

“Westerners?” Talion tilted his head in incomprehension.

“Numenor.” Celebrimbor explained. “At the time there was talk in Gil Galad’s court about the potential threat of Numenor, as the Menfolk there were continuously growing in numbers, strength and advancement, which exceeded all we knew of your race.”

“You were afraid of Men, while you had Sauron amongst your midst?! Ironic, don’t you think?” Talion chuckled darkly.

“Quite.” Celebrimbor agreed dryly. “And while Annatar sat quietly on those meetings beside me, in private he often told me that I could assume power over your race if I offered them immortality.”

Talion’s mouth made a straight line, all humour fleeing. The wraith looked at him shrewdly.

“I never wanted dominion over Men, or any other race, and I found it distasteful that he even mentioned it." Celebrimbor reassured him. "And there was the matter of Eru's Gift to mortals. I told him that I had no right to take it away, no one did. However, he went and inserted the expansion of life into the Nine rings, and when I found out what he had done, I was angry at first, but later it seemed that it had not been such a bad idea. Annatar convinced me that no gift was being taken away - the ring bearers remained mortal, even if their lives were stretched longer, to the extend of their own choosing. Or so he said.

"It sounded so fair, that I willingly conceded to the same quality being placed into the Dwarven rings. At their reception by the Lords of the Khazad, I thought that I was gaining stronger allies, the likes of which could stand by my side even if Annatar turned out to be false.”

“So, your were suspicions after all. When did you find out whom he really was?” The ranger briefly leaned on the wall behind him, promptly pushing himself away at the feel of cold moisture that met his back. The storm had long since been reduced to a quiet drizzle but the ancient stones were still running with rivers of rainwater.

“It happened slowly, over time.” Celebrimbor sighed. “There was no grand confession or sudden realisation. The knowledge slowly settled over my mind, as his little slips begun to amount and the things he said, which had seemed off at first, began to form a larger picture and the image gradually become clear. His desires were different from mine - we both wanted power, knowledge and a better world, but he wanted it all without having to share or compromise.

"He told me once that the weakest link in the reaction were the ring bearers. We were discussing the hierarchy of the rings we had made, the stronger and the weaker ones, and how they interacted with each other. He was speaking about a Master ring and I told him that such a ring should never be forged. He pretended to agree with me, reassured me that his were merely speculations. However the knowledge of how his mind worked deeply disturbed me, and I had no more illusions about his deceptive and dangerous side.

"Although I played along and pretended to be soothed by his lies, I could not erase the horror and the realisation that it brought - the knowledge that all the rings I had forged could be enslaved in that way. And he was not fooled by my pretence either - I could see it in his eyes, the cold way he analysed me when he thought I wasn't looking. I was not at all surprised when he vanished shortly after without notice or explanation.

"I was foolish to hope that all could be forgotten as if it were a bad dream. That I could move on, after he placed his mark, not only on all my work and my domain, but also on me - body and spirit alike.

“A big part of me missed him deeply, but I buried that part away and continued my research without him, stirring my mind to other matters. I underestimated him, I underestimated whom he was, because had I known, I would have been preparing for war instead of trying to erase him from my dreams. He wanted revenge on all those who had wronged him, my entire race and all of the Valar. The sole reason for enduring my city had always been bringing the entire world to its knees. He didn’t even plan on starting with me - that’s how little I meant to him in the end.”

“So he left, and you told nothing of it to others?” Talion asked.

“Of my suspicions, you mean?” Celebrimbor fixed him a look. “All I knew was that he was not whom he claimed to be. I didn't want to disclose my personal failure or the distraught state of my heart with others. I preferred to say nothing of it, even when my colleagues asked about his sudden departure. I hoped that this mistake would go away and I would be allowed to forget about it. At the time, I thought that the greatest damage had been dealt to my heart and my pride.”

“So, you truly did not suspect that he was Sauron?” Talion insisted.

“That wasn't something anyone would have liked to suspect in my situation." The wraith said. "But even before he left, I had begun to distance myself from him and I had stopped sharing my work and my thoughts with him. I was proud enough to think that I could stand up to him and I forged the Three rings in secret. They were meant to be weapons if I ever needed defence against him. He must have sensed the shift in me, just as I sensed it in him, but I don't think that he had ever imagined the degree of my dissent to him.

“When I found out about his betrayal, it was too late. Once he forged the One, he knew of my betrayal of him as well. He could feel the Three rings, but he could never possess them from a distance. That’s when his malice turned towards me. He came for me and my city burned like straw in summer, because I could not use the rings without risking being enslaved. He laid everything I've built to waste, murdered all those who remained loyal by my side. He captured me and dragged me to Mordor, but he wanted more than just the locations of my rings. He needed me to finish his own work as well. The One was wild and untamed - it needed refinement and he could trust no one but me to do it."

“You said that he did not care for you, but it seems that he valued you in truth, if he let you finish his greatest weapon.” Talion stated questioningly.

“Only as much as a craftsman values his favourite tool. He was going to dispose of me once he was done, I am certain of it." Celebrimbor angled his frame away. "I remember seeing his creation for the first time, and it was by far the most powerful artefact I've ever laid eyes upon, including the silmarils. He had poured his very essence into it. The One ring was terrifying and ravishing at the same time, it could channel his power and make him even more powerful than the Valar, but it had also left him incredibly vulnerable by it's conception. What was left of his spirit beyond the ring was merely a shell to hold his physical form. His true self was locked away into the Ring and without it, he could not be whole. But by putting himself into an object, he could then be owned, possessed, controlled, whether he realised it or not.

"Before he allowed me to work on its inscription, he attempted to break my mind. I choose to bend instead - I submitted myself to him willingly, just as I had done before. His will slid so easily in me when I didn't fight it, he suspected nothing and I did what he wanted of me. But I was not truly broken, I had my wits enough to use his own trick against him. I put something of me into the ring's song -augmented its design so that it would respond to me, however weakly. I could then possess it and use it, and I stole it, in that moment of numbing horror when Sauron realised what I had done.”

"Wait, you _inserted_ yourself into what was practically Sauron's being? And then you stole it?" Talion cringed at his own wording, but he could find no better way to put it.

Celebrimbor barked a short laugh.

"Yes, you can say that." He said. "I left a permanent mark on Sauron's spirit. He'd never be free of me, even if he managed to kill me in body. There would always be a part of him where I will reside, just as he will always have a part of me. And when I took the ring, what I left behind was little more than a shell, nearly defenceless and empty. And he was desperate to have the ring back."

“What happened then?” Talion asked, his eyebrows rising almost to his hairline.

“That’s all I remember…” Celebrimbor shook his head wearily. “We must try to find more heirlooms from my past. Perhaps then the memories would return.”

"So, we have to keep working together if I want to hear your full excuse, is that it?” Talion asked, only half-jokingly.

“I don’t think that either of us has a choice, on that matter, but yes - I will tell you more once I remember.” The wraith said.

“Alright then.” Talion sighed. “But don't even think about withholding information from me again. You know that I will find out, one way or another.”

“You shall have the entire story. You have my word.”  
…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! An update! I'm trying to find my way with this story again, so forgive me if it feels a bit different from before.  
> Anyway, I hope you will like the current chapter :)
> 
> And if anyone has played the actual game - just forget about the game's plot - I'm using it all VERY liberally.

“We are here.” Lithariel announced as Talion beheld the lush valley of Nurn, a green and fertile land, which stretched from the jagged grey slopes of Ephel Dúath all the way to the steep coast of Mordor’s in-land sea.

It was the country from where Lithariel hailed and it suited her well, the ranger noted. The land was wild like his guide's temper, exotic like the colourful beads in her many braids, and hot like the bronze tone of her sun-kissed skin.

Talion admired the view for a long moment, waiting for her to catch her breath after the long climb over the final peaks of the Mountains of Shadow. His eyes strayed to her trim waist as she took off the cape, which had warmed her in the windy passes and neatly rolled it before bending down to attach it to her sack. Talion was startled from his reverie by the wraith clearing his immaterial throat.

“I did not know that Mordor could be this beautiful.” Talion said, forcing his eyes back to the view. In the distance he could see the glittering vastness of the Sea of Nurnen. “Ever since Udun was overrun by orcs, their taint and rot destroyed everything. Not even plants can survive and the land is barren, except for a few resilient weeds.”

“Do not be fooled - orcs are swarming the forests and the tall grasses. They are simply harder to spot from a distance.” The blonde's delicate features turned fierce as she spoke in hatred. “They are spoiling our farming lands, poisoning the rivers and still demand to take all the land's gains. Where do they carry our grain and the fish, I do not know.”

 _“To feed Sauron’s war machine.”_ Celebrimbor sneered near the ranger’s ear.

“Take me to your Queen.” Talion said. “I will take care of the orcs.”

…

The Queen of the Shore could see into the spirit world and conversed directly with Celebrimbor, giving the long-dead Elven lord cryptic instructions on how to defeat the Black Hand of Sauron. Find the dwarf, take the elven craftwork from the ghouls…

The meeting had made the ranger even more restless than he had been before. It wasn’t enough that he had been awoken from death, resurrected and seemingly unable to truly die, but now a witch and the ghost of a mythological elf were demanding that he raised an army of mind-controlled orcs and used them for their shared revenge.

The worst part, the one that Talion did not want to admit to himself, was that he was all too eager to agree to that plan. A part of him delighted in breaking the orcs’ wills almost as much as he liked spilling their guts or cutting them in multiple pieces to the ugly noise of their dying screams.

They were beasts, no, worse than beasts to him. They did not deserve any better than what they were dealt and Talion felt no remorse for eviscerating them with ruthless attacks meant to terrify, or chasing them down even as they tried to get away. Celebrimbor hated them too, his anger fused with the ranger's and together they were an instrument of revenge - cutting through Sauron’s ranks without mercy.

He ran into a gang of orcs and it was the perfect opportunity to test the wraith's power of possession. Once they spotted him and attacked, Talion lost himself in the blood-lust, slicing down the larger of the Uruk-hai, while the weaker orcs ran away, leaving him to beat their captain nearly to death. Once the Uruk dropped his javelin, Talion kicked his knees and the creature fell to the ground. He raised his sword with every intention to slice the orc's body in half, but the wraith halted him.

 _“Don't kill him!”_ Celebrimbor’s voice boomed in his mind and Talion surrendered control to the wraith, letting the elf guide the ranger’s fingers to the uruk’s mutilated face. Suddenly the orc could see him too, no longer as a man but as the second-age Elven Lord, angry and terrible.

 _“Suffer me now!”_ The wraith shouted and the orc rolled it’s glowing green eyes into the back of his head, his mind breaking like a raw egg.

Darûk, was the thing's name, spilled out information of his superiors and their whereabouts. Once branded, he was as loyal as a trained dog and Talion dismissed him to nurse his wounds.

He should have been revolted by what they had done, but even if he knew that the magic was savage and beneath a captain of Gondor, if it yielded results and lead him to his revenge, Talion decided that it was a worthwhile sacrifice.

...

 _“We shall make that one a Warchief.”_ Celebrimbor told Talion later as they made their way through a damp forest.

Talion nodded in agreement. Their plan was simple - brand the local warchiefs or raise their own from the captains they controlled. Then they would have an army of orcs to unleash on the Black Hand.

Talion was a Northman and had he been a living human he might have found the moist heat difficult to bear, but since he wasn’t, the beads of moisture that rolled off his grim features were little more than condensation from the heavy air. He could see water evaporating from the earth where the sun warmed the dirt between the trees. The rain made the greenery grow and the forest was dense, noisy, busting with critters of all sizes.

The ranger stopped and listened. He could hear a chorus of unfamiliar birds and the insistent buzzing of some exotic bugs, the likes of which he had never heard before. They were grating on his nerves.

“Did you visit this land during your lifetime?” He asked, if only to distract himself.

 _“I do not remember.”_ He heard Celebrimbor's tired sigh and saw the flicker of the wraith's presence on his right arm.

"Do you think you would have liked it?" Talion asked with a dark smile.

 _"No."_ The wraith barked. _“We shall need to find that heirdom, which the Queen mentioned. Perhaps it will return more of my memory._ ”

“Where do we begin?" Talion sighed, pretending not to notice how the elf had changed the topic back to the only one that seemed to interest him. "This land is vast-”

 _“Quiet._ ” The spirit materialised before him, eyes on something behind Talion’s back. _“Something is stalking us._ ”

…

Caragors. They formed packs and were bigger and fiercer than the half-starved ones of Udun. Talion found that the monsters of Nurn were another of the aspects he hated about the place. He had to escape that fight, so he ran from the predators' long fangs and sharp claws with the swiftness, which Celebrimbor's power afforded him.

Almost accidentally they ended up finding the cave, which they were searching for. The next artefact had to be there somewhere.

“Ghouls." Talion whispered as he sneaked into the cave. "I hate these nasty creatures.”

 _“Try not to alert them."_ Celebrimbor advised in that gruffly voice of his. _"Here in the darkness they are at home and their numbers are far greater than we can take on in an open fight. I would hate a setback.”_

That’s what Celebrimbor called the times when his body did not survive the trials of Mordor. A setback. No matter that they both had to feel _everything_ as their temporary flesh was being torn apart. Each new death weighed on Talion's spirit. He wondered if the elf felt the same, or had he been dead for too long. It was another question, the answer to which he did not want.

“Ending up in the belly of a scavenger is the last way I want to go.” Talion assured him, hopping over a fissure, right above the heads of a few unsuspecting ghouls, who gnawed on long bared bones.

“This cave is filled with treasures.” Talion observed. Amongst the dark corners, covered in cobwebs and filth were broken chests, tarnished coins and weapons still gleaming in the scarce light. “How will we find your heirdom here?”

 _“I will know when I see it.”_ The wraith said and it left the ranger little at ease. He hated that cave - wished for nothing more than to be out of it.

 _“Talion!”_ The wraith called his name and the ranger turned. They had reached a larger chamber, lit by a natural light-shaft, which brought rays of sunshine into the deep cavern. When the ranger turned, he saw his companion's shadowy figure by one of the walls - pointing at it.

Talion pushed cobwebs and grime out of the way with his sword and then he saw it - a shimmer of silver, sharp elegant curves, the sweeping lines of tengwar and a very sharp point…

It was the hammer from his dreams - the same one he had seen in Celebrimbor's memories. Shivers run down Talion’s spine.

 _“Forged by the Dark Lord himself and still covered in my family’s blood.”_ Celebrimbor enunciated gravely.

Talion reached for it almost apprehensively, steeling himself for the surge of power that came with it.

…

That night he returned to the Queen’s hideout, where he was welcomed by Lithariel. The queen's adopted daughter made excuses for her mother. The Queen’s affliction was worsening and she was not in disposition to meet with them. Secretly, Talion was glad. The raw visions that came with the artefact had left him exhausted and he had no more energy for pleasantries or pretending to hold interest in a conversation, even if they had showed little besides what the wraith had already remembered.

The ranger knew that more memories would emerge once he closed his eyes but he was no coward and putting off sleep wasn’t going to change that fact. So Talion took the humbled single bed, which had been allocated to him in the relative safety of the Queen's hidden residence and allowed himself to drift.

…

_He saw a star blazing upon his hand._

_Power surged through him, so potent it excited every molecule of his body, heating it white, pulling every string of his being so tight, it was a matter of time before he self-ignited._

_His will held it all together, a dumper placed on a dam, trying to control a power, which fought him, rebelled like a living thing, lashed out just like its maker._

_He was stronger than he had ever been before. Quicker. Visible only when he wanted to be. He did not need to eat. There was no need for rest. He could read the minds of others. Control was surrendered to him on his whim. One word and the orcs forgot their entire lives and turned into puppets in his hands, turning their weapons in whichever direction he commanded._

_It wasn’t hard to gather an army and send them fighting their old master. And finally there he was - Sauron, on his knees. Chained. Defeated._

_Annatar looked up at him, eyes wide and terrified. He looked so beautiful, so innocent. An act, Celebrimbor knew it for what it was. He caressed the Maia’s soft cheek. Finally. Finally._

…

Talion awoke from the hazy dream. His heart was pumping and his manhood was rigid. It throbbed against his lower belly, arched painfully in the tightness of his leather trousers, which he hadn’t bothered removing before flopping on the bed to sleep.

“Thanks for that.” He growled, knowing that the wraith was there. 

Celebrimbor’s silver outline flickered from the foot of his bed. He was sat at the edge, looking out the opened window to the star-filled sky outside. The rustle of leaves and the distant howling of a caragor were the only sounds in the night and the moon was still young. 

 _“Just take care of it.”_ Celebrimbor drawled, as if Talion’s reaction had nothing to do with the wraith’s memories.

“What if I don’t want to take care of it myself.” Talion challenged, propping himself on his elbows.

 _“This better not be a proposition.”_ Celebrimbor warned and Talion shivered in disgust.

“Morgoth’s hammer!” The ranger shook his head hard, as if he could shake of the mental image along with it. “I did not mean you!”

Celebrimbor’s scarred face drew in a deeper frown.

 _“Don’t even think about it!”_ He hissed but Talion was already rising from the bed.

“And why not?” Talion asked getting up and striding towards the door. Celebrimbor appeared in front of him as if he could physically prevent Talion from leaving.

 _“She is from this world, Talion.”_ The wraith insisted. “ _You are not! Remember your wife. Remember your son.”_

Those words halted the ranger. If there was one thing that could ruin his mood, that was mention of the slaughter of his family. All thought of finding Lithariel’s room were disappearing, as was his eagerness for company.

Having made his point, Celebrimbor disappeared and Talion was alone. Seemingly so. Sighing deeply, he went back to the cot where he sat. No more rest was to be had on that night, so he took out his swords, the whole and the broken one and the whetstone. He thought of the strange dream as he honed his weapons.

With the One ring, why hadn't Celebrimbor won the war? How had he ended up scarred and dead while the Dark Lord was on the loose? The more the thought of it, the more he didn’t want to know.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to those who still follow this story! I know it’s very slow going, but I hope this long chapter of Second-age Celebrimbor/Annatar will sort of make up for it  
> Warnings: violence, hints of non-con, all the angst!!!, some horror towards the end.

The Bright Lord entered the windowless cell in the bowels of Barad-dur where his defeated enemy waited, chained and humiliated. If the dull thud of the roughly-hewn stone door sliding back onto its iron hinges alerted the prisoner at all, the figure kneeling on the floor didn’t show any indication.

Boots of silver steel scraped against rubble and volcanic dust, crushing shards of dark crystal. Here the air was stale, and perpetually cold, something that the architect of that magnificent war tower had never bothered to consider. After all, _he_ had never meant to end up in one of its prison cells.

Celebrimbor lowered himself to one knee before the pale-ghost of the brilliant Maia he had once revered. Sauron had reverted back to his Elven form in the moment of his defeat, shedding away the horrible black armour and the towering height and the long spidery limbs of his demonic true form, in favour of Annatar’s rounded features and soft hair. The new Lord of Mordor was fooled by those appearances no longer, but the Maia’s pleading golden eyes had stayed his hand from running that pathetic creature through with his sword, which had been glowing white with the power of the One Ring that the elf had come to possess. And so Sauron was imprisoned, taken deep beneath the fortress, which he had built to oppose Eregion and all of Elvendom.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Celebrimbor whispered, lifting Sauron’s chin with one armoured gantlet.

The Maia didn’t resist his touch, and the elf was rewarded with the sight of the terrible beauty of Annatar’s features once more. Nothing outwardly had changed about how Sauron chose to appear, except where his aura had once been oppressively thick and cloying in its sweetness, now it all but cracked along the seams, as its owner was too exhausted and beaten to maintain the illusion of luxury and magnificence.

Even now Sauron refused to meet his eyes, shuttering their gleaming depths with the long curve of his blonde eyelashes. The submission was most satisfying, the victorious elf concluded. It was only fitting that the defeated Maia would fear to even look at him.

“I took everything from you, just as you planned to do to me.” Celebrimbor whispered, watching carefully for any flicker of emotion across the Maia’s marble-like face. “How does that feel?”

Annatar finally looked up to meet his gaze and to Celebrimbor’s dismay there were still shreds of defiance in the fallen spirit’s eyes.

The Annatar he had known before the betrayal, _his Annatar_ , as Celebrimbor had taken to calling the man whom he had considered his friend, his colleague, and for a little while - his other half, had never shown anything but calm and control in his demeanor. Even during the worst of their times, when Sauron’s inborn sadism had shone through, either through his love of cruelty and violence, or through a slip of words, an opinion voiced that raised too many questions in the elf’s mind, there had never been the kind of vitriol that he was witnessing in Sauron’s eyes.

As Sauron’s captive, Celebrimbor had been looked upon in mocking, victory and yes, hatred, but it was nothing compared to the malice and will to destroy, which currently burned within Annatar glare.

The look might have hurt him before. It had hurt him when his Annatar had left, but things had changed since then. Now Celebrimbor had the One and in its flaring light, the elf had discovered warmth, power and the cure for his ill-begotten love for a spirit that did not return or deserve it.

He scarcely needed this shell of a creature anymore, now that he had all of Annatar’s power and more. He could rule Mordor, turn it green and beautiful once more. He had plans for its inhabitants - he would fix the orcs - give him a couple of centuries, perhaps a millennia, but he was going to uproot the evil that Morgoth had sown. He was going to be the Bright Lord of Middle Earth, because the rest of its rulers were ineffective and there was so much unfairness overlooked. With the power the One Ring afforded him he, Celebrimbor, could erase all the darkness, unmake everything broken and reforge it anew to its utmost state of perfection.

All were going to know that the last descendant of Feanor had more than made up for his kin’s sins and mistakes and the stain of his house was going to be washed away and forgotten. With such power, he could shatter the earth and retrieve the lost silmaril from its fiery depths, drain the ocean and find the other one, even reach across the skies and reclaim the third one from amongst the stars. He could break them open and fulfil the prophesies, bringing the light of the Trees back into the world and lift the curse of his family. Then his father was going to return from the Void, look at his son and at last know pride.

All would rejoice the Bright Lord, all would flock to him and let him rule them. What use was one broken Maia to such a perfect being, what need was there for Annatar's _love_?

Celebrimbor blinked and in a moment of surprise realised that the hand that had held Sauron’s chin up was now squeezing the Maia’s throat. Tears were welling up in Annatar’s cringing eyes. Tears - were they tears? Could a Maia truly cry?

The ring on Celebrimbor’s finger was hot and whispered into his mind. _Kill the traitor. Let none oppose you. Make an example, not even a Maia can stand in your way. Kill Sauron - who deserves to die more?_

It took more effort than Celebirmbor had anticipated to make his hand release the Maia’s throat and to place it back on one of his bent knees. Annatar panted, shaking in the chains that held his wrists locked behind his back. He lowered his head until the pale waterfall of his hair covered his face and he wretched, choking past a crushed windpipe.

“Your own creation wants me to kill you.” Celebrimbor divulged darkly. He felt himself smirk when Annatar looked up between the strands of hair that fell into his eyes.

“Why not do it then?” Annatar asked, his voice nothing like it had once been - all honey and rumbling streams - it was coarse from disuse, from thirst and from all the little indignities of defeat.

“I’m not letting any part of you control me again.” The Bright Lord explained. “Not even in the decision whether to end your pitiful existence or not.”

Sauron let out a noise that sounded like the snarl of a wild animal, but before the Elven Lord could mock him, Celebrimbor realised that it wasn’t a sound of helplessness at all. The demon was softly laughing.

“You think that you have control, don’t you?” Annatar’s smile was sibylline as he once again met Celebrimbor’s eyes. “You don’t see that the Ring has sunk its claws straight into the core of you.”

“What new devilry is this?” Celebrimbor frowned, growing angry and impatient. “Do you think I'm a fool to fall for your lies a second time?”

“But you are a fool if you think that you've won!” Annatar’s laugh sounded hoarse like the cawing of a raven. “I couldn’t have sunk further into you, if I had buried my whole arm up your ass!”

Lightening fast Celebrimbor backhanded him and with the steel plates upon his armoured fingers and through the power of the One Ring, the impact was hard enough to snap the Maia’s head around with a sickening crack.

Before Celebrimbor’s stunned eyes, the dents and bruises on Annatar’s features moulded back together into perfect grace, but not without a shudder of pain travelling over the Maia’s entire being. The golden eyes that turned back to him looked tired and not a little bit wary.

Devoid of the One Ring Sauron’s power knew limits and Celebrimbor knew that he could reach them. If he kept hitting it was only a matter of time before the Maia’s energy was spent and the spirit was left with a crushed body that could no longer house it. Celebrimbor could kill him with his bare hands, if he wanted to.

“You have no claim over me.” He growled between clenched teeth and felt immense satisfaction at the way Annatar flinched away from him, unable to meet his eyes. “You challenged me and you were defeated. This ring of yours is one of many spoils I intend to claim.”

“This ring is my spirit, solidified.” Annatar murmured, barely above a breath, but with the ring’s enhancement Celebrimbor could hear every word, could even count the beats of the orc-guard’s hearts outside the thick stone walls. So he didn’t miss the next words either. “When you wield it you and I become one.”

“If that is so, why then do you want it back so badly?” Celebrimbor hissed. “Enough of these games, demon - you vex me!”

“Don’t you want to know what will become of you, Tyelperinquar?” Annatar’s eyes were bright and fey, and Celebrimbor had no doubt that Sauron was putting all of his power in trying to manipulate him again. “You will wane, like a shadow in the midday sun, except there will be no more day for you. As long as this ring exists my spirit will endure and even if you kill this body, I will not be vanquished nor defeated.”

Celebrimbor’s frown deepened.

“Return the ring to me, or be consumed!” Annatar said at last and his voice held some of its old power, for dread gripped the elf’s heart.

For a moment he saw himself as the Maia willed him to see it - a mere puppet to the ring’s will - a vessel for Sauron’s dark workings, doing his best to destroy everything he had once held dear, blind to his own evil deeds.

The elf shuddered. Blinking past the blinding gold of the ring’s glare in his mind, Tyelpe saw, really saw, the mirror-like black of the volcanic rock, which constructed the cell around them, how dark and unnatural that place truly was, windowless and underground with nothing but his own ghastly light and the pale glimmer of Annatar’s skin and hair to illuminate it.

It was a fell and evil place, and he was stuck in the middle of it, bargaining with a demon, who looked up at him with ravenous golden eyes. For a moment, Celebrimbor was afraid.

The moment passed like a cloud over a sunny sky and with it the horror receded, pillowed by the comfort of knowing that he held all the power with his Ring. The Bright Lord had nothing to fear. Nothing to doubt.

“Submit! And I may yet let you serve me!” He commanded in the end, watching Sauron’s gaze fall to the floor between them.

“Very well.” The Maia's answer came after a long pause. He lifted his eyes only slightly to catch a glimpse of his vanquisher before lowering them again in resignation. “I know when I am defeated.”

Celebrimbor lifted an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips despite his attempts to appear unforgiving.

"I hope you know better than to mock me." He warned and Annatar bowed down lower, until his forehead rested on the floor in a gesture of utter capitulation.

“I do - my Lord.” Annatar winced. “Let me serve you in whichever way you see fit.”

The elf let out a little sound of amusement and stood up, looking down on the pathetically doubled-over creature, letting Sauron fry in dread and anticipation for a little while longer.

Sauron had made him suffer, and terribly so. A little part of him still recalled the bruised and battered heart that had beat in his chest for nearly a century after he had realised that he had been nothing but a tool in the Maia’s hands - something to be used and discarded without a second thought.

Inspiration struck him and Celebrimbor shifted his weight, scrapping a steel-clad foot towards the place where the Maia’s head pressed against the floor, and Sauron got the hint, anxiously peaking up at him before obediently placing his lips over the dust-coated boot.

Something beaten and denied in the elf’s soul cried out in relief at the display. Annatar’s kisses over his boot soothed a hurt inside of him like a balm, and smiling a little, Celebrimbor gave him his other foot as well, watching in contentment as Sauron proceeded to all but lick it clean.

“You look as if you’ve had practice.” He quipped and delighted in the way Sauron flinched. He had no doubt where Sauron had learned such servitude, but as much as it should have disgusted him, it did nothing to disperse the pleasant flutter in his belly.

Annatar’s mouth was making his way up his armoured calves, hands still tightly drawn behind his back. The chains rattled as he struggled to keep from overbalancing.

The elf’s breath caught and he licked his dry lips. He made no attempt to aid or encourage Annatar's pathetic attempts, not even to step closer and make it easier for the Maia to reach his goal. Annatar kept his gaze lowered demurely as he nuzzled his nose in the hollow of Celebrimbor’s hip and leg joint. The Lord kept still, doing nothing but smugly watching Annatar fret.

“You think you should serve me thus?” He laughed, watching Annatar flinch and bow his head. “I’ve had all of you already.” He reminded between maliciously grinning teeth.

“Not like this.” Annatar whispered and his breath misted the polished steel over Celebrimbor’s thigh.

“What makes you think I want you at all?” Celebrimbor tilted his head, turning his scrutinising eyes as unkind as he could manage. The pained frown that seized Annatar’s brows was a marvel to watch. Feeling vindictive he couldn’t resist adding: “Half the time you were not nearly as pleasing as you seem to think.”

“That’s because I wasn’t trying.” Annatar whispered and this time it was Celebrimbor’s own will that guided his hand to slap him across his angelic face.

The impact left a pink welt in the shape of fingers across Sauron’s pale cheekbone. The defiance that flashed in his eyes before he managed to stifle down the evidence of his hate caused something to snap inside Celebrimbor’s already precarious control.

He grabbed the Maia by the throat and threw him back against the wall with unnatural ease. The impact between Sauron’s skill and the rock left cracks in the mirror-like surface of onyx behind him. The Maia hissed like a serpent when Celebrimbor tightened the gantlet around his vulnerable neck and pressed Sauron harder against the wall, causing him to bend unnaturally over the chains that dug into his back.

“You won’t have to try very hard now either.” He growled and pulled Annatar up until the Maia could put his feet under his weight and helplessly shift between the steel-clad elf and the stone wall.

 _Hurt him. Make him pay._ The ring’s voice was in his head again, but Celebrimbor was an elf and some violations were beyond him. He leaned over, teeth tearing at the fleshy bit of Annatar’s ear until he tasted alien blood and the Maia’s breath hitched.

When he pulled away he found Annatar’s eyes wide and panicked as if he expected to be hurt or ravished against his will. Celebrimbor laughed.

“Do you take me for a monster?” He growled as he released Annatar and stepped away. “I’m not like you.”

Just as he was about to turn and leave the Maia to his misery, the sound of Annatar’s chains rattling stopped him, along with the Maia’s voice as he once again fell to his knees.

“Don’t leave!” The pale creature begged.

“You presume to command me. Still.” Celebrimbor turned on his heels and approached the Maia’ who had folded himself small on the floor, kneeling deeply before him.

“No. Master - please.” Annatar begged and his voice shook, as if he was about to weep.

On a surge of misguided pity, Tyelpe knelt beside him again and put a hand over Annatar’s trembling spine.

The Maia’s weakened stance swayed forward hazardously until their lips clashed in a hurried kiss. Celebrimbor’s eyes widened and he pushed the Maia away as if stung, but Annatar was frantic, pushing forward to stay close to him and begging him with a voice that was swiftly falling apart:

“Please - take me - make me pure again-” Annatar sounded desperate, and so were his lips as he found his way over to Celebrimbor’s side again, his pretty mouth pleading with its soft fullness against the forbidding line of the elf’s tightly closed lips.

“Pure again?!” Celebrimbor spat in revolution, pressing Annatar down to the floor amongst the rubble and the chains that bound him. “As if such a thing is possible!”

“I am begging you, my Lord!” Annatar pleaded, unshed tears making his yellow eyes glisten with unholy light. “I need saving! I need you to take me and make me whole again. Can’t you see that I’m broken? I need to be fixed.”

 _That_ Celebrimbor could agree with. Annatar sprayed himself on the floor before him, chained wrists still below him, but his white robes, once perpetually unstained and pure, were now dusted in patches of dirt and rusty blood, parting down his chest. The flesh beneath them wasn’t the smooth porcelain which Celebrimbor remembered, but a child's painting in blotches of purple and green smudged over a sickly canvas. This Annatar was vulnerable and flawed.

Annatar’s breath disturbed the volcanic dust that hung in clouds of stale air around them, and its soot clung to his white-gold hair, darkened the moist tear-paths that streaked his painfully handsome face. A creature of luxury no longer - he was all ruined beauty and tragedy - a fallen angel.

Celebrimbor reached and cupped his cheek, leaning over the prone body and kissing Annatar's lips as the Maia sobbed. He moved his lips to taste the tears that rolled down Annatar's cheeks. Beneath his hands Annatar’s robes all but fell apart, parting down the middle like the petals of a nocturnal flower blossoming in the moon's silver light.

Distantly Tyelpe wondered that things could be so easy - it had never been easy with Annatar before. This Annatar was all but grinding into him, undressed by the self-same magics that had made the Maia feel so unreachable in the past. Annatar had always fashioned himself as something more than Celebrimbor, had made certain to let the elf know that he was inferior, even in the throes of passion shared, they had never been equals. And neither were they now - Annatar was so clearly beneath him, moulding himself to Celebrimbor's every whim, following even the smallest movement the elf made, adjusting to his every need.

Annatar’s bare legs spread obcenely wide around his armoured hips, and Celebrimbor felt himself growing hard faster than he had thought possible. Soon the codpiece felt tight and restrictive, his arousal straining against it in a painful angle.

For a moment he wondered if he was allowing himself to be manipulated again, but then the ring’s ever-present song reminded him that he had all the power and nothing to fear. He could snap the Maia’s neck in an instant, he could batter Sauron to a bloody mess, if the Maia so much as looked at him the wrong way. It wasn’t succumbing, when he was taking that which he wanted - for hadn’t he wanted Annatar’s unconditional surrender all along…

With a thought he allowed the Ring to release the clasps of his armour, letting its shells fall off his body at the same time. Beneath he was wearing nothing but a layer of velvet and cotton, easily pushed aside and unbuttoned to release him.

It struck him that he had never been allowed on top of Annatar - not even once had the Maia let him take control. Cradled between Annatar’s silky thighs, Tyelpe wished to feel even more, desire singing so loudly in his veins that even the ring’s power seemed to recede to the back of his mind, as he divested himself completely and came to rest over Annatar’s equally exposed flesh.

In that instant he felt something akin to love softening his heart. He felt closer to having what he wanted than ever. Annatar was responsive - giving as good as he was given, wriggling beneath him, kissing him back eagerly, without even a hint of teeth between those deceptively innocent lips. Oh, Celebrimbor knew how the Maia could bite, how he could bruise, how he could hurt, but none of that was present here. For once Annatar was pliant, and sweet, vulnerable and perfect, just perfect.

Perhaps the only thing in the world that was better chained rather than free, Celebrimbor though. Was that what Annatar wanted - to be taken and dominated in order to be good and whole again?

But Annatar's wrists were bound. Therefore this couldn't be what he wanted. Not really.

The thought left a bitter aftertaste in the elf’s mind.

Yet he knew better than to untie Annatar’s wrists. He had been fooled enough. He wasn’t going to fall for such a simple thing.

Remembering how Annatar had abused him, Celebrimbor gripped his chin in a punishing pinch between the strong fingers of his right hand and tilted the Maia’s face out of the way as he assaulted his pale throat with bruising kisses and nips. Annatar’s breath rattled, fast, panicked and aroused, his hips thrusting up to grind his hard, weeping member against Celebrimbor’s stiff erection.

The heat between them made Celebrimbor moan into the flesh of Annatar’s neck, and fumble with his otherwise so capable hands, too excited and needy to control his movements as he traced the line behind Annatar's balls all the way into the hot cleft of his ass. Funny that Annatar had never allowed him to touch him so before, but now he was so eager to be breached that he all but pierced himself on Celebrimbor’s fingers.

It was easy to enter him, the dry flesh of Annatar’s body alternating between giving way and squeezing around the elf’s fingers as he fucked the Maia opened with fast, efficient movements.

“Suck - suck if you know what’s good for you.” Celebrimbor panted, raising himself enough to be in reach of Annatar’s willing mouth and letting out a raw moan as the Maia took his engorged member into his mouth and slicked it with saliva.

After only a few seconds of rocking into Annatar’s perfect mouth, Celebrimbor pulled out. He didn’t wish to rush so, but if he lingered he had no doubt that he was going to give in to the temptation to spend himself down Annatar’s throat. The idea was delicious and sorely needed, but there was going to be another time for that, he decided. What he needed was to claim the Maia thoroughly. He needed to make Annatar his once and for all, and only after he was certain that he truly owned him, he could start work on rebuilding him into goodness and perfection. Yes, the Ring sang, Annatar should be his, along with the rest of the world -

Celebrimbor held the Maia down by the throat as he pulled out of his mouth and rearranged them so that Annatar was lying beneath him, with his knees hooked around the elf’s lower back and his ass stationed by the tip of Celebrimbor’s erection.

Just as he was beginning to push in, giving in to the maddening bliss of sheathing himself in Annatar’s beloved body, Tyelpe chanced a glance at the Maia’s face and was shocked to a stop when he saw those beautiful eyes closed and ridden with tears.

He paused, halfway into the Maia’s body, and leaned over to kiss Annatar’s cheek, way more tenderly than he had intended.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed, his voice sounding vulnerable even to his own ears.

Annatar shook his head and reached up to kiss his lips almost timidly, but his eyes remained tightly closed. His weeping nearly made Celebrimbor lose his erection and the elf pulled back a little, trying to get a better look at the Maia.

“Are you in pain?” He asked, his arms trembling a little despite himself.

“I will be okay-” Annatar sobbed, his arms twitching slightly as if he had forgotten they were bound. The pitiful movements as the Maia tried to get more comfortable on the chains behind his back and then surrendered with a sigh, spreading his legs wider and laying back motionlessly, head tilted to the side in a gesture of misery and dispair, tugged wretchedly at the elf’s heart.

“I never meant to force you.” Celebrimbor said hoarsely, preparing to pull away, but Annatar’s legs locked behind his back and the Maia shook his head.

“You are not -” Annatar gasped between ragged breath. “It’s just -”

He made another wincing gesture as he pulled on his chained wrists.

“I’m not going to untie you.” Celebrimbor frowned. I’m not that dim, he thought.

But then the ring was whispering to him - he had nothing to fear, nothing at all. Why shouldn’t he rejoice in what he had earned for himself? Annatar was powerless - powerless and pathetic…

Annatar sobbed as Celebrimbor pushed all the way inside him and remained listless even as they pressed flush together. The elf couldn’t stand it and he bade the chains open, a tiny command of his mind bending metal through the power of the ring.

At once the chains fell off and Annatar’s arms came around Tyelpe’s back, circling the elf in their silky embrace. The Maia’s face was suddenly glowing, smiling broadly with pleasure and enthusiasm and Tyelpe hurried to kiss him, feeling an intense joy fill his sense. Finally. Finally.

Annatar’s hips moved against his own, piercing himself onto Celebrimbor’s erection, and all the elf could do was hold on as the Maia moved sinuously beneath him, gripping his shoulders tightly, with fingers that dug into his skin in all the right ways, sighing into his ear as he took all of him in.

It was sweet, perfect and Tyelpe joined in, moving along with his lost lover, fusing their bodies together and feeling their spirits push against each other more firmly than ever before. For a moment, he felt as if he was standing on the edge of a deep chasm, looking down into the great void below. Wind was pushing him forward, daring him to take that final step and throw himself into the unknown. That was what Annatar’s presence felt like beneath him, except that it was all around him and Celebrimbor was _that_ close to letting himself be utterly breached.

Was it possible for them to join in the ways of the fear? Celebrimbor considered it impossible before, but then again, Annatar had said it himself - they had never truly made love before. And now Annatar was opened to him, in more ways than the obvious one, and all Celebrimbor had to do was answer that call and let them finally become one.

His pleasure surprised him and just as he was about to hit his peak Annatar maneuvered them around, stopping the flood of feeling just in time for him to hold back. Now he was the one lying on his back amongst the chips of broken stone and the cold links of discarded chains. Their edges stabbed into his back, but through the will of the Ring, Celebrimbor was invulnerable to hurts so mundane, and he chose to let them shatter instead of break his skin, as Annatar straddled his hips and rode him hard.

Celebrimbor closed his eyes and gripped Annatar’s hips. Not yet, he thought, trying to prolong the inevitable end for as long as he could, even as pleasure too intense turned the space behind his eyelids white.

Feeling returned to him suddenly - small discomforts that escalated to true pain when the world suddenly turned dark. Volcanic-glass cut into his back and the rhythm of Annatar’s movements turned bruising as hipbones as hard as stone ground his tender Elven flesh between the Maia's weight and the cold stone floor.

Tyelpe opened his eyes and saw the cell piercingly black and the figure bobbing over his cock, grinning with nightmarish humour, teeth glittering in the dark. The eyes were no longer golden, they weren’t even the animalistic hue of yellow they sometimes could adopt. Sauron’s eyes were flaming red and the golden ring on his finger was heated to a molten orange glow.

The Ring -

Tyelpe stared at his empty hands in panic, finding his fingers stripped of rings and completely bare.

Annatar stopped moving and leaned over him. He didn’t speak and Tyelpe didn’t breathe.

…

Talion opened his eyes, letting out his bated breath in a harrowing scream. The crumbling chain he held in his hands fell to the ground, and so did the ranger, collapsing to his knees.

Next to him, the elf's wraith was doubled over in much the same agony, trembling in and out of sight, face hidden by streaks of ruined hair.

Talion knew not what to say - his thoughts were a mess, too much he had experienced, too deeply had he felt. He couldn’t even muster the will to be angry or vindictive. For a moment all he wished to do was weep.

“Why was this curse brought upon me…” Talion lamented under his breath. “Why am I damned like this?”

“ _To feel as I have felt, to experience that, which even my spirit has chosen to forget-_ ” The wraith’s voice sounded rougher than usual. “ _I am sorry, Talion! I did what was necessary._ ”

Talion thought that Celebrimbor meant the search for the relics and shook his head.

"Do you think there will be any more?" The ranger couldn't help but ask, lacing his voice with distaste in an attempt to hide the hopeful notes behind it. "Or will this be the last _vision_ we will see of your past?"

The elven spirit bowed his head, the wind picking up around them as if giving breath to a ghostly sigh.

" _I do not know._ " Celebrimbor grated slowly. " _But if I had to wager, then no. My memories are all but reconstructed, but I still do not recall my death._ "

Talion swallowed past a stone in his throat. He, for one, could imagine a myriad of ways that the final encounter between Sauron and the elf could have ended in Celebrimbor's death. However he knew better than to hope to be spared more horrifying fragments of the elf's past.

“We have a lot to seek revenge for.” He settled for in the end, picking himself up. He was a man of Gondor, he wasn't about to shudder and weep like a child. They had work to do.

“ _Yes, we do. And the Tower is our next target._ ” Celebrimbor said, stepping beside him and turning his gaze towards the sea of Nurnen. “ _Let’s not keep our army waiting._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to write this chapter for a while. I hope you liked it and don't forget to tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on Tumblr! Come say hi: alikuu.tumblr.com


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